Fame and Misfortune
by looneyluna
Summary: Being a celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially when one has pissed off the leading reporter of the Daily Prophet. Trying to counteract his bad publicity, Severus Snape devises a plan – to marry. Hermione Granger is recently unemployed due t
1. Chapter 1

A/N – I am indebted to my two patient betas – Kathy Rose (my editor) and Larilee (my canon nazi). It goes without saying that I owe them my first born child. I'm still trying to figure out how to divide him between the two. This story was written for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made.

Fame and Misfortune

--

Glaring at the sea of Hogwarts' students, Severus scowled. Why was he still here? The bloody war was over. The Dark Lord was defeated. The ungrateful wizarding populace was safe – safe until the next source of evil surfaced. His role in the war, his sense of purpose for the last two decades, was gone. A slow agonizing death would have been preferable to what he suffered through now. Not only was he forced to teach the blithering spawn of wizards and witches, he had to deal with something far more unpleasant and far more dangerous – the media.

Even though it had been more than five years since the end of the war, the celebrity status of being a bloody _war hero _had not waned in the slightest. If it weren't for Albus "Memoir-Writing-Bastard" Dumbledore, no one would have ever known his role in the war.

Not only did he have to deal with hormonal teenagers, he had to deal with their mothers and grandmothers constantly harassing him. Everyone was fascinated with the spy who had duped the Dark Lord for well over a decade.

He could feel the curious stares of the students as he sipped his morning coffee. Last night had proven how out of control things had become. Students, female students in particular, were purposely out after curfew, hoping to capture his attention. His patrol of Hogwarts' grounds had netted a record number of house points. He did not discriminate between the houses.

In fact, he had taken the most points from Slytherin. Glaring at his house table, he shuddered. The last thing he needed was a Slytherin woman trying to seduce him.

The stupid chits were becoming more and more aggressive. One had even tried to slip him a lust potion. He had tried to get that student expelled, but Dumbledore had conveniently overlooked Hogwarts' policy and had assigned the student detentions for the rest of the year. Filch would definitely be getting his use out of that upstart.

Would the indignities he'd had to suffer throughout his forty-five years of existence ever end? Would things ever be normal?

Severus snorted into his coffee with a derisive smirk. Normality was a concept he would probably never know in this lifetime. He'd been a spy most of his adult life. That was anything but normal. Hogwarts was normal. It was his home. The school would have to burn to the ground before he would leave.

His reverie was cut short as Severus heard the squawk of owls entering the Great Hall. As had become his morning custom, he transfigured his napkin into an umbrella and quickly deployed it. An undignified chuff sounded at the other end of the table as fan letters rained down upon the staff's table. By the time the owls were finished delivering his fan mail (and it was his, for all the other staff had had theirs redirected), the deluge would be ankle deep.

Grinning, Severus took a bite of his toast and ignored Minerva's outbursts over how many letters were in her porridge. He rolled his eyes as he looked down the table. Flitwick, who was sitting beside him, had taken his lead from Severus. The Charms Professor had transfigured one of his utensils into an umbrella. He could hear the giggles from the student body.

"Really, Severus!" Minerva stood up with as much dignity as she could for she was slipping on the letters on the floor. "I do not see why you can not redirect this fan mail. It is _very _inconvenient."

Ignoring the Transfiguration mistress, Severus turned his stare upon Dumbledore, who was calmly pulling a letter from his juice.

"Pity, Severus," Albus stated. "This one appears to be ruined. You really should think about getting your mail redirected."

"I do have my mail forwarded, Headmaster," Severus replied calmly as he disposed of his umbrella. "Any correspondence of importance is forwarded to Gringotts."

"I see," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile.

_Yes, you bloated old goat. Just smile and make no apologies. If I have to suffer, everyone around me is going to have to suffer. _

Brushing the letters off the table and uncovering yesterday's copy of the _Daily Prophet _, he unfolded it and read the headline. He rolled his eyes. Thankfully the headline wasn't Potter-related. Unfortunately it was Granger-related. Good Gods! Weren't there more important things in the news other than Miss Granger's sacking from St. Mungo's? 

"What a rag," he muttered under his breath. "Why do I even subscribe to such tripe? I might as well have a subscription to the _Quibbler. _

--

Marking the pathetic essays while his fifth-year students finished their assignment, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Ironically enough, they were brewing the Draught of Peace. After the fiasco in Hogsmeade village this morning after breakfast, he was going to have to seriously reconsider staying at the school.

Severus had met a business associate at the Three Broomsticks and Madam Rosmerta had cornered him on his way out. Merlin, her breasts were huge! He knew this because they had actually blocked his view of the paparazzi he had been observing. 

His relationship with the vermin and toads was most inconvenient. He was safe on school grounds, but past the gate he was fair game.

The flash had blinded him and, before he had known it, Rita Skeeter and her enchanted quill had been in front of him, asking absurd and ludicrous questions.

With a vicious final swipe, he set his quill down and looked at the time. "Ten minutes!" he snapped at his class.

Sighing, Severus leaned back in his chair. Was he ever going to have a moment's peace? Between the stupid chits in his class and the paparazzi outside Hogwarts' gates, he doubted it.

He needed a diversion – something that would dissuade witches from stalking him. He needed to take himself off the market. Tapping his chin, Severus looked at the ceiling. Short of death, there really didn't seem to be much of a solution.

A loud, smelly hiss disturbed his concentration. In the back row, the contents of what was supposed to be the Draught of Peace spilled onto the floor.

--

Ah, yes! The Draught of Peace was exactly what he had needed – that and a long hot shower. Steam obscured his vision. Untying the sash on his robe, he made his way to his bedchamber. A good night's sleep would set things right.

"My, my, Severus," a catty feminine voice purred from the direction of his bed. "If the public knew what kind of package you had, you'd never have a moment's peace." 

Pulling his wand from his pocket, he pointed it at the naked blonde witch who was posed seductively on his bed.

"For one so skinny, I would have never thought it would be so impressive," Rita Skeeter moaned breathlessly.

With a quick succinct movement, Severus covered himself and raised his wand again. "Get out," he warned, his inflection low and ominous.

The hack smiled and moved around on the sheets as though she was trying to scratch an itch that she couldn't quite reach. "Oh, come now, Severus." The poisonous witch winked at him. "I can make you famous."

Severus approached the bed and lifted his wand higher, pointing the tip between the reporter's eyes. "I'm already famous," he growled, "thanks to your hack journalism."

"Severus," Rita replied with a sulk, "you wound me."

"That's not all I'm going to do to you."

A loud pop in the corner of the room sent the seductress scrambling for the duvet.

"Y-yes, sir, Professor Snape, sir," Dobby stammered.

"Please escort Miss Skeeter off school grounds," Severus commanded, "without clothes and without her wand."

Rita scoffed in alarm. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

With a snap of Dobby's elfish fingers, Rita disappeared.

--

Snape stabbed at his eggs with a vengeance, ignoring the prattle around him. That ruddy cow had ruined a perfectly good Draught of Peace. Within minutes of her _graceful _departure, he had felt a headache coming on.

"I'm fighting a losing battle," Severus muttered lowly to himself.

Filius flicked his _Daily Prophet _and wheezed, "Oh my! Severus, did you have a run in with Rita Skeeter recently?" the stout wizard asked cautiously, handing him the morning paper.

Grabbing the daily tripe, Snape skimmed the headlines. He didn't have to scan far. Rita's stab at revenge was today's headline news.

_Sorry Ladies: Local Hero Not Interested_

It is this reporter's sad duty to inform all the hopeful Missus Snapes that they are barking up the wrong tree. I have it on good authority that Professor Severus Snape is not interested in women at all. In fact, it is rumored that Snape's taste leans toward the bizarre and unusual.

It would seem that the reclusive Potions master of Hogwarts has a fetish for house-elves…

"Bloody fucking hell!" Severus' voice boomed above the buzz of conversations. All eyes were on him. 

Further down the table, Dumbledore cleared his throat and gave the student body a stern stare. "Relax, Severus. It could be worse. We all know the rumor isn't true. Take my brother, for instance. The tale of him and the goats was never proven."

Severus gaped, his hand that was holding the paper shaking.

--

Storming into Auror Headquarters, Severus wove through the desks until he reached the one he was looking for. He slammed the paper on Potter's desk. "I demand restitution!"

Harry looked up at him with dispassionate green eyes. Then he looked at the paper. "Is it true?"

Feeling the blood boil in his veins, Severus gaped at James Potter's spawn. "Of course it isn't true!" he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry looked down and wrote something. Once he was finished, he looked up and sighed. "It doesn't matter what she prints. The_ Prophet_ has deep pockets. If it sells papers, they will print anything. I suggest you retain the services of a barrister and file a petition. Only then will you get your restitution."

"I should have known better than to come here!"

"Then why did you come here?" Harry asked.

Severus grabbed the paper and walked away, mumbling under his breath. Potter had a valid question. Why had he cancelled his classes, traveled to London, and sought the prat out?

_If anybody knew how to deal with the press, he did, _he mused as he entered the lift. The press had hounded him mercilessly ever since his fourth year at Hogwarts. Only when Potter had married did the press seem to lose interest in printing blatant lies about him.

Epiphanies were rather rude awakenings as far as he was concerned, and the thought that just crossed his mind was beyond insane. He shook his head as if he were trying to banish the errant thought into oblivion. Looking at the crumpled paper in his hand, Severus started to unfold it.

A rather unflattering picture of Hermione Granger pushed the camera away on the front page below his story. Her brown curls were even more prominent and out of control than when she had attended Hogwarts. The girl had rounded curves now. In fact, she was actually somewhat chubby. The caption under the picture read:

_Healer-In-Training Hermione J. Granger clears out her belongings after being sacked from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. _

Severus took small comfort in her obvious displeasure. She looked harassed, angry, haughty, and…scared.

The stupid chit should be scared. Her career is basically in the toilet. She was too young to have any substantial savings to live off of while she looked for work. 

Severus shook his head again, stamping the absurd thought that kept bubbling to the surface of his consciousness.

_Marry her, _kept resounding in his head.

"I've done it," he groused out loud. "I've lost my marbles. I'm completely insane."

_Marry her and the press will go away, _the voice in his head insisted.

"I'd be exchanging one problem for another," Severus argued with himself.

_It wouldn't be that bad, _the insanity whispered. _You would only need to bed her once to make the marriage legal, and then you could go your separate ways and never speak again. _

He shuddered as he stood in the elevator, mumbling to himself. The idea was absolutely ludicrous. There was no guarantee that the media would leave him alone.

The elevator door opened and flashes blinded him.

"Professor Snape, is what the _Daily Prophet_ true?" a reporter shouted.

"Are you in love with the house-elf?" another asked.

"What's her name?"

"How long have you two been together?"

Finally able to see, Severus pushed his way through the throng of hacks toward the fireplaces. He shoved one reporter out of the way and reached for the Floo powder.

_Short of dying, it really is the only way, _the inner voice affirmed.

--

Shoving a piece of_ Daily Prophet_ into the vase, Hermione wrapped another sheet of the newspaper around it and sniffled.

"At least the stupid rag is good for something," she mumbled to Crookshanks who flicked his tail in agreement. It was thanks to that widely read tripe that she had lost her apprenticeship – well, that and her other problem.

Feeling another sneeze coming, she grabbed page three of the newspaper and held it in front of her just in time to sneeze into the paper.

Hermione sniffled, wiping and blowing her nose on the sports section. "Ah, yet another use of the _Daily Prophet_. Wouldn't you agree?"

Crookshanks stared at her with wide eyes, yet gave no reply.

Placing the vase in a box, she straightened and looked out the window. The vultures were camped out across the street. Things definitely couldn't get any worse than they already were. Not only had she been unfairly sacked, now she had a cold, a cold that made it difficult to do magic.

Yes, she could buy a potion and cure her cold, but money was tight. She'd just have to muddle through the drudgery of packing the Muggle way. Tearing another piece of paper for packing material, Hermione stopped as a familiar picture scowled up at her.

"House-elves!" she sputtered as she scanned the article about Professor Snape. Rolling her eyes at the ludicrous allegations, she balled the paper up and tossed it into the nearest box. "At least my life isn't the only one that rag is bent on ruining."

Stretching, Crookshanks mewled and jumped off the windowsill. He pranced to the door and looked at her expectantly.

Being a properly trained owner, Hermione walked to the door and opened it. She didn't hear the pop of Apparition behind her. "Poor Professor Snape. What could he have possibly done to deserve such a smear upon his reputation?"

"I threw Rita Skeeter out of my bedchambers," a cold voice replied behind her.

Whipping her wand from her sleeve, Hermione pointed it at a very irate Severus Snape. Her hand shook as she stared at him, but she did not lower her wand.

"Please forgive my intrusion. I would have Flooed you, but your Floo has been disconnected," he said, walking over to the window and pulling the curtain aside. "I owled ahead, but you obviously did not get it."

Her wand still pointing at her former professor, Hermione shook her head. "My mail is forwarded to the Ministry."

A puzzled look flitted across Snape's face. "You have your fan mail forwarded to the Ministry?"

"Yes," she replied, gripping her wand tighter. "I mean no."

He gave her that sarcastic look – the one that she'd grown accustomed to over the years she'd known him.

"Which is it, Miss Granger?" he asked.

She shook her head, trying to make her thoughts clearer. "W-what are you doing here? How did you get through my wards?"

Severus clicked his tongue and looked pointedly at her wand. "Perhaps, it would be best if you put your wand away."

Eyeing him warily, Hermione lowered her wand. "How did you get through my wards?"

"A trade secret," Snape replied with a snap.

Flexing her hand on her wand, she kept it unsheathed – just in case. "What are you doing here?" she repeated, trying to get at least one straight answer out of him.

He turned his attention toward the window again, staring out of it as though he had to take a bitter tonic. Finally, he sighed and turned to face her. Running his fingers through his lank hair, he licked his lips.

"I've come with a proposal," he stated, and then winced.

"Oh?" Hermione sniffled and tucked a wild curl behind her ear. He looked nervous. Or was it scared?

Opening his mouth to say something, Snape quickly shut it and frowned. "Are you ill?"

She walked past him into the kitchen. Her eyes were watering and she could feel another sneeze coming on. Grabbing a dishrag, Hermione sneezed with a deafening "Achoo!"

"Miss Granger?" His voice held more annoyance than concern.

"What?" Hermione answered his question with a question, becoming more chafed by his presence.

He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Boxes were stacked on boxes and everything was in disarray. "You're moving," he said, stating the obvious. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose to stay another sneezing attack, she sighed. What did her former Potion's master want? "Yes," she snapped and walked past him to fold the flaps of the box and shove it to the side.

A puzzled look crossed his face. "And you're not finished yet?"

"No," she growled irritably.

"Why are you not using magic to pack?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Because," she chuffed as she lifted a box filled with books and placing it on another box filled with the same thing. "I have a cold." She sniffed for emphasis. "I've tried using magic, but it's just not working for me right now."

"Why do you not take a potion for your ailment?" Snape moved aside hastily as she walked past him.

_Question, question, question,_ she groused inwardly.

Putting her hands on her hips, Hermione set out to answer all his questions. "I'm not taking a potion because I haven't enough money to purchase one, much less the ingredients. I don't have enough money because I've been sacked. I was sacked –" Her voice caught as the tears threatened to surface. Getting her emotions under control, she continued.

"I was sacked because of 'my inability to control my personal life.' I am unable to control my personal life because of that bloody rag of a newspaper." With each sentence, her voice rose an octave. "Which is kind of ironic, because I really don't have much of a personal life."

The media and her barmy admirer had made sure of that.

--

"I see," Severus stated softly, secretly pleased that her life was in shambles. It could prove to his advantage. Hermione sneezed again, derailing his train of thought. She took the dishtowel and held it up to her face as though she were trying to plug a leak.

"What do you want, Professor?" the young witch asked.

Looking at the woman he intended to marry, Severus shuddered. Her clothes were baggy, hiding the rounded curves he'd seen in yesterday's paper. Most of her hair was pulled into a haphazard bun. It appeared that she could not contain the dull brown mass. She had dark circles under her eyes, rosy cheeks, as if she were feverish, and a bright red nose.

She looked like she was well on her way to hag-dom and spinsterhood. He would definitely be doing her a favor.

Severus cleared his throat. "I see that you are having as much difficulty with the media as I am."

"And?" Her tone dripped with acidic sarcasm. 

Staring at her, he continued. "I have come up with a way to temper the unfair exposure you and I both suffer at the hands of those journalistic hacks."

She looked at him, her wide chocolate eyes glassy.

"I propose…I mean I suggest that you and I marry," he asserted.

Her eyes narrowed and she gaped at him.

"If we were to portray 'the happy couple,' the conjecture would die down and the public would lose interest." 

"But Harry and Ginny are married and they are in the news daily," she muttered softly, arguing with his theory.

Nodding his head in agreement, Severus began to pace. "I believe that Mr. Potter is the exception to the rule. I mean only to dissuade those piranhas that wish to wed me. I'm tired of the women and their constant schemes."

He approached her and she backed away. That was when he noticed that she still had her wand in her hand. He scowled, feeling his plan dissolving in front of him.

"I would reward you for any inconvenience," he persuaded aggressively. "You could unpack – stay here while you look for another job." He waited, hopeful for a positive response.

"You've gone stark raving mad!" she blurted, then slapped her hand over her mouth.

Hoping for something one didn't want in the first place was shallow and empty. Yet, having that hope snatched from one's grasp was a harsh reality indeed. Severus could feel the spiteful thoughts churn and did nothing to temper his response.

"I would be doing you a great service, Miss Granger," he snapped. "Not only would I allow you to remain here, I would bestow upon you a status that you could only dream of.

"I would save you from a life of pity after you've dried up into the old maid you are destined to become. Most of your contemporaries have married and started their families. But you have been unable to capture the attentions of a man because your physical assets are anything but appealing.

"When you reach a certain age, children will point at you and whisper, referring to you as a hag. Undoubtedly, you will own several cats by then – none of which will be able to fill the void in your life that you so desperately ignore.

"Your hair is dry and wild and completely unappealing. Your figure is overly large." Severus took a breath as if winded. "So you see, Miss Granger. I would be doing you a favor at an enormous cost to myself."

--

"For your information, _Professor _, I have had several offers of marriage," Hermione spat, affronted. _Yes, the majority of my proposals have come from whackos and dodgers. But the wizard before her needn't know that. _

"I may be unconventional in my wants and desires, but I assure you that I will not end up an old maid. I will be respected in whichever field I choose. Unlike you, I have my future ahead of me. Unlike you, I will not wallow in bitterness and hatred.

"As far as my physical appearance," she railed indignantly, feeling the blush of humiliation and anger flood her cheeks. "I've had plenty of lovers who have thought differently!"

Stomping toward the door, Hermione yanked it open and looked into the hall. "And you're a fine one to talk! You could probably milk your hair for potion ingredients and you could certainly use the services of my parents!

"Now," she stated sweetly, "if you would 'do me a favor' and leave, I would be forever grateful."

His dark eyes constricted, but he did not move.

"Leave now," she instructed through gritted teeth, raising her wand. "Or I will have you forcefully removed."

"Very well, Miss Granger." He nodded his head as he walked past her and into the hall. Once in the hall, he turned. "Should you reconsider my offer, you know where –"

Hermione didn't catch the rest of what he was saying as she slammed the door in his face.

--

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – There are not enough words in any language to express my gratitude to my beta readers, Kathy Rose and Larilee. I still don't own any of the Harry Potter universe. Thanks to all who reviewed. Reviews really do feed the muses. I think I answered them all.

--

Adjusting her bag, Hermione walked into the foyer and dropped her keys on the table.

"Is that you, Hermione?" her mother called from the kitchen.

"Yes, mum!" she shouted, rolling her eyes. _Who else could it be? Dad's in the lounge and I'm the only other person with a key. _

Hermione sighed. _The rent is cheap. The rent is cheap, _she mentally chanted. Not only was she living with her parents again, she was also working for them.

The _Daily Prophet_ had had a field day with that story. _Brightest Witch Takes Muggle Job! _

She just had to bide her time and wait. Things would blow over and she would go back to St. Mungo's. Over the past few months, she had received several generous offers of employment. Most of them had seemed to be too good to be true, and they were. Those wizarding establishments had only wanted her for the publicity.

Hell! She had even considered going to work for George and Fred, she was so desperate to get away from her parents. It's not that she didn't love them. It's just that they tended to smother her.

She put on her best smile and strolled into the kitchen. "Hi, Mum."

Her mother was drying her hands. "Did you find the books you were looking for?"

"Yes," mumbled Hermione with forced enthusiasm.

"Oh, darling," her mum chattered. "Keep your chin up. I know things may look bleak now, but Harry will set things right. You'll see."

Feeling the frustration bubble to the surface, Hermione huffed. "How long am I supposed to hide, mum? It's been five months since I started getting those letters."

Jane Granger sighed heavily and hugged her daughter, offering no words of comfort. There was nothing left to say.

She pulled away and clapped. "You got a letter today! This ought to cheer you up. The mail carrier dropped it off. It seems thick."

Giving her mother a nervous smile, Hermione fingered the envelope nervously. "Maybe it's from Mabel," she said excitedly, referring to a Muggle friend from grammar school, and opening the letter.

Unfolding the pages of the letter, she froze – her eyes wide with terror as she recognized the handwriting.

_Dearest,_

I realize that you are Muggle-born. That was one of the things that drew me to you. Your Muggle roots are nothing to be ashamed of. I admire your courage and desire to embrace both our worlds. I love you so much that I am willing to live in a Muggle neighborhood and raise our children in a manner your parents will approve. I've even sent this letter though Muggle post.

I only hope we will have time alone before the children come along. You're never alone. There are always people around you. When we are together, no one will disturb us. Of that, I am sure.

Faithfully Yours,  
Your One True Love 

Hermione crumpled the letter in her hand.

Her mother's face fell. "What is it, dear?"

Tears fell down her cheeks as she started to cry. "When will this end? When will they catch him? It's bad enough he cost me my post at St. Mungo's, but to send the letters here?"

Wrapping her arms around her, her mother started to rock her back and forth, making comforting noises.

A loud repetitive bang sounded down the hall, causing both women to jump.

"Just a minute," they heard her father shout. 

Hermione withdrew her wand and ran toward the front door – panic overpowering reason. She wasn't going to get to the door in time as she heard the click.

"Hello, Harry," she heard her father greet the young Auror.

Hermione could hear the panic in her friend's response. "Where's Hermione?"

How could he have known about the letter so quickly?

"I'm here, Harry," she called out to him as she rounded the corner into the foyer.

His green eyes were just as wild as his hair and his glasses were askew. "Where's Crookshanks?"

Hermione hesitated, growing more confused. "He's upstairs," she said.

Putting his glasses to rights, Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

"Why are you asking after my cat?" she asked uneasily.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "We intercepted another letter," he replied, holding the unwelcome letter between them. "In it, he says that you'll have to get rid of your cat before --"

She didn't hear the rest of the stalker's letter as she rushed up the stairs and into her room. "Crookshanks! Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Come to mummy."

Hermione could feel the tears well in her eyes and swiped at them angrily. She pulled the duvet from her bed, searching desperately for her pet. "Oh, Gods!" A pitiful meow from her closet quickly tempered her blind panic.

Opening the door to her closet wider, Hermione knelt on the floor and moved some clothing out of the way.

Ginger eyes blinked at her as he started to groom himself. Relief flooded through Hermione as she picked up Crookshanks.

The cat yowled, sinking his claws into her arm and struggling to get away.

"Ouch!" shouted Hermione as she dropped him.

Crookshanks scurried with an odd limp across the room.

"Crooks?" She tried approaching him. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong with him?" her father asked behind her.

"I-I don't know," she answered helplessly, a million scenarios running through her mind.

"When was the last time he went outside?" Harry asked, kneeling next to her and reaching for the cat that hissed and swiped at the Auror's hand. 

"Is he bewitched?" her father asked. "Possibly poisoned?"

"I don't know!" Hermione shouted in frustration. "I don't know."

Harry stood up. "I'll Floo Hagrid."

--

"Yeh be right mean too if yeh'd gone an' broke yeh leg," Hagrid said as he ducked his head, coming down the stairs. "But I gives him a potion an' he'll be right as rain in a day 'er two."

"Any idea how he broke his leg?" Harry stood by the window in the lounge.

"Coulda been any number of things," Hagrid mused. "He's comes an' goes as he pleases. He coulda caught his leg on anything."

Hermione took little comfort in her fellow Order member's words. It was just too coincidental. The letters were becoming more obsessive, more personal, as though the person who was stalking her was actually acquainted with her.

She hadn't read the letter that had sent Harry over here. She didn't need to. Too many people had been hurt already. Several patients on her ward had developed a rash due to the magical ivy her stalker had sent.

His letters always alluded to the other people in her life. He wanted her alone – "his perfect love." This was the kind of thing of which Muggle horror movies were made.

She needed to end this, to establish some sense of normalcy in her life. When the letters started coming, she had considered the Fidelius Charm. But that wouldn't work. The stalker would haunt her friends and family, searching for her Secret-Keeper. At least, that was what Kingsley had said. 

"Hermione?" Harry's questioning voice broke through her reverie.

Shaking her head, she smiled weakly. "Yes?"

"I asked if you would have a problem if we stationed a couple of Aurors outside your house." Pulling the drapes open, Harry looked out the window.

"Yes, yes," the Grangers agreed together, answering the question that was meant for their daughter. "We would appreciate any help, Harry."

"No," Hermione said determinedly.

"Hermione, be reasonable," Harry urged. "The lunatic has threatened Crookshanks."

She shuddered, having yet to read that particular letter.

"He's escalating." Waving her Muggle-sent letter, he knelt in front of her. "He wants you alone. He's even talking about children, for Merlin's sake!"

Hermione jumped up, accidentally knocking Harry on his rump. She was suffocating, a sensation that had become all too familiar lately, and it sent the sensible witch into a panic. What could she do? She had nowhere to go, yet the desire to flee to protect the ones she loved was overwhelming.

"I wish I was back at Hogwarts," she mumbled under her breath, naming the only place she had ever truly felt safe.

"What was that, dear?" her mum asked.

"Hogwarts," she sighed. "I wish I were back at Hogwarts."

--

"I must be out of my mind," Hermione mumbled as she walked down the chilly corridor and into Severus Snape's domain.

It had been a week since Crookshanks' injury and Muggle-sent letter – a week of jumping at every sound – a week of worrying about her parents. Whoever her stalker was, he was from the magical community. He was concise, never leaving enough clues as to his identity.

Harry had been true to his word, rotating Aurors to watch her parents' house round the clock. It just so happened that those same Aurors were members of the Order – Tonks, Kingsley, Moody, and Harry – all people she cared for dearly.

Snape's proposition played in her dreams, taunting her with the possibilities offered by such a marriage. His offer was self-serving and ludicrous, but it had its merit. He had stipulated that they wed, consummate the marriage, and go their separate ways.

Today, she would accept his offer and see if she could flush the stalker out. She was tired of living like a hunted animal.

Madam Pomfrey had graciously agreed to offer her an apprenticeship. She would have a small stipend and a place to stay – the safest place to stay. Hogwarts was a fortress. That was why Voldemort never attacked it.

Sighing as she reached her destination, Hermione squared her shoulders and entered the Potions classroom, painfully aware that the only sound was the clicking of her boots upon the floor. She tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear and kept walking, her eyes focused on the dark figure hunched over his desk, marking essays with a ferocity that she remembered all too well. He didn't bother looking up.

She cleared her throat and touched her hair nervously. His words about her appearance had stung. Her hairstyle hadn't changed, but it was more manageable. Her figure was the same, but she felt that the new robes she'd bought hid her curves better. Her makeup was so minimal that even she could barely tell she had it on.

"Go away," Snape commanded with a wave of his hand.

"As pleasant as ever, I see," Hermione snapped defensively. "It's amazing you have sixth and seventh years still interested in Potions."

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise – his surprise quickly covered by a sneer. "Miss Granger."

"Professor Snape," she replied, fidgeting with the folds of her robe.

His opaque eyes ran the length of her figure.

Feeling her mouth go dry, Hermione licked her lips.

Snape looked down and marked the essay he was grading with a mean swipe. "Well?"

"I-I…um…" she hesitated, suddenly wondering what had possessed her to come here.

Tossing his quill down and pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape sighed. "Merlin's beard! I cannot believe my horrific misfortune. I suffered seven years with you in my class and couldn't silence your constant dribble, and now you can't speak?"

Taking a calming breath, Hermione glared at him. "I've reconsidered your offer," she blurted out, then held her breath.

A look of conceit crossed his features.

_Oh, Gods! This was a mistake. _She started to back away. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"Wait." The one-syllable word was spoken so softly, Hermione almost didn't hear it.

Severus stood, his chair scraping the floor loudly. "Why have you reconsidered?"

Her pride bruised, Hermione looked down. "This was a mistake. I should go." Perhaps casting the Fidelius Charm and never seeing any of her friends and family again was preferable to this desperate act. 

Walking around the desk, he reached for her, grabbing her wrist and stopping her retreat. "Running away isn't a very Gryffindor trait," he taunted.

Yanking her arm out of his grasp, Hermione's eyes flashed. "Even Godric Gryffindor knew when to retreat."

"You've already made the effort," Snape stated sharply.

"You're right," she retorted. "Why shouldn't I totally humiliate myself? After all, I've come all this way."

He smirked, but did not reply.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Hermione looked at a point on his shoulder. "About a year ago, I started receiving letters."

"It's been five years since Potter disposed of the Dark Lord," Snape stated dully. "Surely you received letters before then."

Irritated over the interruption, Hermione met his gaze and glared at him. "As I was saying… I started receiving love letters from a fan."

Snape snorted.

"Would you please refrain from interrupting me?" she snapped.

Severus cocked his head to one side and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Over time, the letters became explicit and things started happening." Hermione shuddered with memories. "He's obsessed and becoming increasingly threatening."

Snape nodded his head for her to continue. 

"He's the reason I was sacked." Her voice caught and she willed the tears away. "He even sent a letter via Muggle mail. Harry suspects that he even injured Crookshanks. I…I'm afraid for my parents."

Remaining as aloof as ever, he leaned against his desk. "And how will marrying me assist you?" His barely-audible voice sounded disinterested.

Anger flashed in her eyes as it bubbled to the surface. "I want to flush that bastard out."

Severus nodded his head, no longer meeting her gaze. "I see."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione waited.

--

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," Severus stated with little enthusiasm. "In order to protect your loved ones and 'flush' your obsessive admirer out, you're willing to sacrifice me."

"Precisely," she asserted quickly, blushing. "I mean…I want to –"

"There is no need to sugarcoat your intentions," he stated with a flick of his hand as he walked behind her. He could sense her fear. He didn't need Legilimency to see her distress.

"And what if I'm the stalker?" he sneered cruelly.

Hermione snickered. "Because you made your opinion of my attributes perfectly clear during your proposal. My stalker may be barmy, but he is eloquent in his admiration for my wild hair and plump figure."

Putting his hands behind his back, Severus paced around the young witch who could put a damper on the media's speculation. Some of the house-elves had even hit on him. Other than righteous indignation, he could do little about Skeeter's public attacks. The bloody ink slinger was vicious. Just when he thought the scandal was behind him, Skeeter would dredge the falsity to the surface.

"And just what would I get out of this arrangement?" he questioned, unable to resist the urge of tormenting his former student.

Hermione squared her shoulders in defiance. "Positive publicity. I would pretend to be besotted with you, playing the doting wife, and dispelling any new rumors the media may –"

"I've heard enough, Miss Granger." Walking around his desk, he gathered his robes, sat down, and picked up his quill. "Meet me at the Ministry tomorrow morning."

"That's it?" she asked.

Rolling his eyes, Severus set his quill down and sighed. "I refuse to insult either of our intelligence by romanticizing this arrangement. Surely you don't expect me to get down on one knee and declare my undying love?"

The Gryffindor witch turned scarlet and started sputtering. "Of c-course not!

"Very well then," he replied dispassionately. "I'll arrange for the marriage license. Meet me in the Atrium at eight o'clock."

--

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N -- Again, I must thank my beta readers, Kathy Rose and Larilee. Thanks to all who reviewed. I think I got them all. Warning! There is some mature content ahead!

--

Staring in the mirror, Hermione smoothed her hands over her modest ivory robe. "This is not 'until death do you part, happily ever after,'" she reminded herself staunchly.

"You look lovely, dearie," her enchanted mirror said in a reassuring manner. "Not too much makeup. Your hair is…well…lovely."

"It's the best I can do," snapped Hermione as she inspected her reflection one last time.

"Hermione, Harry's here to escort you to the Ministry," her mum shouted.

Sighing, Hermione made her way downstairs. _Yes, Harry. I'm quite sure I know what I'm doing, _she rehearsed in her mind, preparing for her best friend's obvious displeasure over her decision. She plastered a smile on her face before she entered the sitting room.

"You look lovely," her mother gushed, wrapping her in her arms and giving her a hesitant hug.

_Good Merlin! It isn't like I'm a virginal sacrifice! _"Thanks Mum."

Glancing at Harry, Hermione frowned. He was standing next to the fireplace with a grim expression. She rolled her eyes. "Morgana, Merlin, and forest sprites, Harry! It's a wedding, not a funeral."

"You needn't remind me," he replied, offering her some Floo powder.

"Really, Hermione," Mr. Granger murmured. "Are you sure about this…this…" He waved his hand in the air as though he were hoping to catch the appropriate word.

She smiled. "Yes, dad. Dobby will be coming for my things. I've knitted him some mittens and hats. Could you please make sure he gets them?"

Mrs. Granger cleared her throat, but decided against saying anything else when her daughter pointedly ignored her.

Harry cleared his throat. "I can't believe you won't even listen to your own parents."

"Do you know who the lunatic is who keeps sending those letters?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"And marrying Snape is going to stop those letters?" he retorted sarcastically.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed a handful of powder. "I appreciate your concern, Harry. But I've made my decision."

"Why not marry somebody else, then?" Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Her carefully constructed argument began to unravel as she tried to answer his question. All eyes were on her, waiting for her answer.

"Why not Fred or George?"

"They are single for a reason," Hermione replied sharply.

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Harry grabbed some Floo powder and walked into the fireplace. "I'll wait for you in the Atrium. Ministry of Magic!"

With a flash of green smoke, he was gone. "That certainly could have gone better," Hermione mumbled.

Her mum brushed an imaginary piece of lint off Hermione's shoulder. "Do owl us once you've settled in, won't you?"

Hermione hugged her mother tightly. "I will, Mum."

--

Leaning against the far wall of the Atrium, Severus watched the various Ministry workers arrive for work. Everything was in place. He had sent an owl to the _Daily Prophet_, announcing his upcoming nuptials. By the time he and Hermione petitioned for the marriage contract and wed, this Atrium would be crawling with media.

Arthur Weasley materialized in one of the fireplaces, brushing the soot from his robe. Severus tried to turn away to avoid the Weasley patriarch, but it was too late.

"Hello, Severus," the red-haired wizard greeted him with an enthusiastic wave.

Snape nodded.

"What brings you here on a beautiful day like this?" Arthur asked.

Schooling his features, Severus peered over the shorter wizard's shoulder and pretended he didn't hear the question. Arthur Weasley really should think about marketing whatever rose-colored glasses he viewed the world through because the weather was anything but beautiful.

Like an expectant puppy waiting for praise from a neglectful master, Arthur waited for an answer.

Severus exhaled impatiently and met the man's gaze. "If you really must know, I am waiting for my fiancée."

Mr. Weasley gaped at him like a fish in desperate need of water. "Really!"

"Yes, really," Severus sneered.

His fellow Order member clapped excitedly. "Molly will be thrilled! When did you meet? Where did you meet? How long have you been engaged? When is the big day? Where is she from? What does she do? What's her name?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose for he suddenly felt the beginnings of a headache coming on, Severus sighed. "We met about twelve years ago at Hogwarts. A day. Today. I do not know." _Nor do I care._ "She is apprenticing to be a Healer. Hermione Granger."

Arthur Weasley – speechless – for the second time in one conversation… Severus grinned as the pregnant pause stretched between them. With any luck, he had shocked Mr. Annoyingly-Cheerful to the point that he might never speak again. 

"Hermione Granger?" Arthur repeated softly.

"Hermione Granger," Severus confirmed.

"I…uh…wow…that's…" Arthur stumbled in his search for the right words. "Wonderful." 

Severus couldn't help but gloat.

"I had hoped that…that once Ronald…came to his senses, he and Hermione…" The hopeful expression died a slow and painful death. "Excellent," Arthur stuttered. "C-congratulations! She's a wonderful girl. Er, I mean woman."

Severus rolled his eyes, wondering if the blathering idiot would ever shut up.

A flash caught his eye and he looked toward the fireplace. "Potter," he growled under his breath.

Potter fixed his gaze upon him and glared. Even if this ruse didn't work, Potter was unhappy, and that was definitely worth the effort.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Arthur greeted him nervously.

"I take it you've heard the news," Harry stated, his inflection dripping with sarcasm.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley," Hermione acknowledged the eldest Weasley as she walked up behind Harry.

"Hermione!" Mr. Weasley took one of her hands and shook it vigorously. "Let me be the first, er, or the second," he amended with a glance at Harry, "to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials."

--

Smiling, Hermione peered over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. Her soon-to-be husband was glowering at her. The man was dressed in his typical black teaching robes as though he were trying to get married between classes.

"Where are your parents?" Arthur asked hopefully, looking around the atrium.

Hermione stammered, reaching for an excuse. Her parents had wanted to be here, but she had asked them not to come. She already felt bad enough, using Severus and this marriage as bait. She didn't want to impose herself any more than she had to on the poor man. "They had a prior engagement."

Frowning, Mr. Weasley shifted uneasily, sensing that something was not quite right.

"Hermione is entering into a marriage of convenience," Harry stated irritably. 

"I don't think they heard you on the other levels, Potter," growled Severus. "Would you mind not repeating the nature of Miss Granger's and my relationship? After all, we do need to put on a convincing front for the media and her unwanted admirer." 

"Her name is Hermione, _Professor Snape. _You might want to remember it when the reporters start asking questions. I can't believe I agreed to this," Harry mumbled.

Tugging his sleeve, Hermione cleared her throat. "Please, Harry." 

Pushing his way past Mr. Weasley and Harry, Severus offered her his arm. "As much as I enjoy Potter's obvious displeasure over our impending nuptials, we do have a schedule."

Hermione nodded, taking hold of Severus' arm. "Mr. Weasley. Tell Mrs. Weasley I said hello. I'll talk to you later, Harry."

-- 

Their pace was brisk and purposeful down the hall, offsetting the awkward silence settling between them. She wore an ivory robe, which was cut to accentuate her Rubenesque figure. The scent of a subtle perfume enchanted his olfactory nerves and Severus cleared his throat.

"You may want to practice smiling," his intended stated brusquely. "You'll need to look somewhat pleased that you married me."

"Indeed," he replied, guiding her through a door and toward the queue for marriage licenses. They wove through the maze and stopped behind a young couple who was having difficulties catching their breath between snogging sessions.

"You look like you're going to a funeral, Professor." Her eyes lingered on the passionate couple in front of them.

"I have set aside the day for this…process, but I saw no reason to change my attire, _Hermione, _" he said, emphasizing her name. "You may want to consider using my given name. I have no desire to have a former student call out 'Professor Snape' when we consummate the marriage."

A light blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. "Oh, yes. Of course, sir."

"Next!" a Ministry official barked, calling the young couple who giggled foolishly. 

"By the way." Severus glared at the couple. "Madam Pomfrey told me to inform you that Peeves was a little too mischievous the other day. In her efforts of retaliation, she mistakenly misplaced your room."

"I-I suppose I could just stay in the infirmary," she murmured, staring at her feet. "I have a little bit in savings. That would pay for a few weeks in Hogsmeade."

"You will not stay in Hogsmeade village while you are married to me."

"Yes, I can," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot in irritation. "Perhaps I could stay in the Shrieking Shack."

"Next in line, please!" the Ministry official shouted, startling them out of the impending argument. Grasping her elbow, Severus led her toward the counter.

Without even looking up, the blonde-haired witch starting asking questions. "What kind of marriage contract are you applying for – an eternal or a temporary?"

"Temporary," groom and bride answered together.

"Names?" the Ministry official asked, pulling out various parchments. She still had yet to look up.

"Severus Snape and Hermione Granger," Severus stated, slipping his arm around his bride's waist.

The witch's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Is there a problem?" Snape questioned after several seconds. The idiotic Ministry official was probably thinking how much she could make off her exclusive interview, no doubt.

Closing her mouth, the witch started sputtering. "N-no, P-Professor Snape. Will you be needing an official for the ceremony?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, we were hoping to marry as quickly as possible," Severus urged suggestively.

"Yes, sir. I'll be right back." The government official jumped up and walked past several superiors, finally stopping at one desk and whispering to a person who was undoubtedly her supervisor.

The supervisor's eyes grew large and he stared at Severus and Hermione for a moment before standing and walking to the counter.

"Megan has informed me that you and Miss Granger wish to marry as soon as possible," the short, balding wizard announced in a loud voice. "I would be more than happy to perform the ceremony myself. Or I could see if the Minister of Magic is available."

"You'll do," Hermione replied sharply as she tugged on Severus' sleeve.

Severus frowned. What did she think she was doing? Didn't she realize that the Ministry official was trying to score points with Scrimgeour? 

Scrimgeour would create a media frenzy, countering all of the negative publicity that had haunted him. Stopping, he pulled Hermione against him and nuzzled her cheek.

"Are you certain?" His breath was hot against her face. Brushing her hair from her face, he nipped her earlobe. "Having the Minister of Magic sign our marriage contract would provide extra exposure."

-- 

Feeling his lips brush against her cheek, Hermione resisted the urge to turn her head and kiss him. A dull ache had started to throb in the pit of her stomach. His conspiratorial tone made little sense to her as unfamiliar sparks shot through her entire being. His teeth nibbled on her earlobe, creating havoc with the rationale part of her brain, which was shrieking in protest, _"You are not attracted to this man!"_

"I, um," she stuttered, shivering as his tongue brushed against the shell of her ear. One of his hands rested on her waist while the other hand tangled in her hair.

"This extra (lick) exposure (lick) would certainly (lick) entice your stalker," he whispered.

"Y-yes," she said softly.

Severus stepped away from her and she felt a swift stab of disappointment replace the throb.

"When will the Minister be available?" Snape asked.

A paper airplane started flying around the supervisor's head and he grabbed it with quick efficiency. A smile spread across the man's face. "He should be here any moment, Professor. Ah! Here he is now." He motioned toward the open door where Rufus Scrimgeour hurried into the pool of gathering spectators.

Severus pulled Hermione against him as he watched the frazzled looking Minister of Magic approach them. It looked as though they had just gotten the man out of bed. Looking at Hermione, Severus saw her scowling. He kissed her cheek again, playing the part much better than she. "I thought you were supposed to be 'besotted' with me. You look like you're about to receive a Dementor's Kiss. Do try to play the part."

-- 

Startled, Hermione stared into his dark eyes. Severus Snape was a master in manipulation. He was playing to the crowd. He was the ultimate personification of the abrasive Hogwarts' Potions Professor, showing those around them that the only change was his desire to marry. He was playing the part of devoted fiancée much better than she was.

Putting a fake smile on her face, Hermione let Severus answer the questions as they were led into an adjacent room. Errant thoughts of what would take place after the wedding flashed in her mind, sparking unfamiliar feelings.

_Relax, Hermione, _her logical, soothing voice whispered. _There really is no reason to consummate the marriage. It isn't as though my stalker will pay that much attention to the license. _

Scrimgeour cleared his throat as someone shoved a bouquet of flowers in her hand. "Very well, then." The minister smiled at the couple and waved his wand, levitating a book in front of him. "Shall we begin? Please take each other's hand and face one another."

Severus took her hand in his and turned to her.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat again and started the ceremony. "I ask if either of you know of any just cause or impediment why you may not be legally joined together."

"I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Severus Snape, may not be bound in marriage to Hermione Granger."

"Hermione?" the Minister prompted.

Hermione looked around nervously. "I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Hermione Jane Granger, may not be bound in marriage to Severus Snape."

"Please repeat the fidelity clause," Scrimgeour instructed.

Holding her hand, Severus separated his fingers. "I bind my hand in yours as a symbol of my… love and faithfulness. With my body I shall honor you…"

Shock waves reverberated through her as the implication of his words battered her resolve regarding physical intimacy. Without consummation, the union would not be legalized. Sighing, Hermione looked at the binding around their hands, somehow curbing the sharp desire to break the connection and run away. 

"Hermione?" Severus' voice shattered her rampant thoughts.

Taking several deep breaths, Hermione wished for a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. This would be so much easier if she were pissed. "I bind my hand in yours as a symbol of my l-love and faithfulness. W-with my body," _my 'overly large body_, "I shall honor you, giving you all that I am and all that I shall become."

Legal terms, peppered with words of sentiment spewed from the Minister's mouth, pushing her mind into overdrive. The bindings tightened around their hands.

"You may now kiss your bride," Scrimgeour announced as she peered into the inky depths of Severus' eyes.

--

Sensing Hermione tense as he pulled her against him, Severus sealed his lips over hers.

He had intended the kiss to be quick, a show for those around them. But a moan escaped her lips and she melted against him. Her surrender surprised him and the opportunist within him exploited her weakness, deepening the sign of affection and slipping his tongue past her full lips. His wife tasted like almonds. The binding around their hands tightened momentarily, then slackened.

He had kept his eyes open during the entire episode, watching the emotions play across her face. Once the binding fell away, her tawny eyes opened and the kiss ended.

A sudden flash and a shout shattered the intimate moment as the media descended.

_Vultures!_ Severus grinned as he anticipated them taking the bait.

"Professor Snape," one reporter barked, "is Hermione pregnant? Is that the reason for the sudden elopement?"

He felt her stiffen beside him. "No!" she spat.

Pulling her tighter, Severus murmured, "Stay calm. There will be more asinine questions, I'm sure."

She turned, her warm eyes moist with tears. "You're right. I'm not surprised." A cold smile spread across her face. "I guess it's time to play the part," she mumbled through her teeth so that only he could hear her.

"How long have you been dating?" another reporter asked excitedly. "How long have you been engaged? What about your fetish for house-elves?"

All he could see was flashes and spots before his eyes. Trying to compose a reply, he was surprised when the answers came from the woman standing next to him.

"We've dated off and on for a little over a year now," Hermione stated lovingly. "Severus proposed last night and I accepted, and you should not believe everything you read in the papers."

"Were you lovers during the war?"

"No," Severus replied calmly, refusing to romanticize the farce.

"Is this just a diversion?" a calm, silky voice questioned from the back of the room. "A plea for positive publicity?"

There was a break in the flashes and Severus was able to see the root of all evil in the narrow world of bottom-feeding journalists. He sneered at Rita Skeeter. "I assure you that we are deeply in love –"

"Then why file for a temporary license?" Skeeter continued her line of questioning. "How temporary is the marriage going to be? And do you realize that it isn't a legal marriage until you consummate it?"

Severus drew a deep breath to answer the witch's questions, but Hermione's voice cut him off before he could speak.

"As you may have noticed," his wife recited quickly, "Severus is considerably older than I am. He insisted on the temporary license. Believe it or not, my husband is a sentimental fool. He and I both agree that an eternal marriage license would be foolhardy at best. Besides, I know very few people who would willingly bind their souls together. 

"Severus would not want for me to mourn him forev-ER," Hermione squeaked as he pinched her playfully.

"I'm not dead yet, my love," he announced, causing the gallery to explode in laughter.

Her gaze met his and he could see a dormant fire within her eyes. "You're laying it on a bit thick, don't you think?" he asked lowly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Hermione's plastic smile faltered, but she recovered her composure when another flash went off. "Our marriage will last until death parts us. And as for your last question, Miss Skeeter…"

Severus could hear the venom dripping in Hermione's tone as she paused.

"Only someone of your…background could ask such a tactless question," she stated flatly, tugging on her husband's sleeve.

The reporters and photographers around her hissed and hooted teasingly, wondering if their famous comrade would strike back.

Her blonde curls bouncing as she shook her head, Rita smiled as she vanished her enchanted quill. "We'll see, _Miss Granger._ I'll be paying close attention to all the tactless particulars."

--

They hadn't exchanged a word to one another since their trip from the Ministry. Of course, it wasn't as though it was a difficult journey. Scrimgeour had allowed them to use his personal Floo, which just so happened to be connected to the Headmaster's office.

Entering the Potion master's sitting room, Hermione saw her trunks in the middle of the room. In fact, her trunks filled the small room. His quarters were cramped, cluttered with books and potion ingredients. For some odd reason, she hadn't pictured this.

_"Reducta,"_ her husband murmured with an exasperated sigh. "You can sort through your trunks tomorrow. The bedroom is through there." He pointed at a door. "I'll be back later. I have duties I must attend to."

Hermione watched as he left the room, finally releasing the breath she had been steadily holding since their arrival. That hack had made this arrangement impossible. Not only did Rita Skeeter know about magical marriage contracts, she knew about Hermione's apprenticeship with Poppy and the living arrangements that had been set in place prior to Peeve's recent rebellion.

She would have to live with Severus now instead of somewhere in the Hospital wing. Skeeter obviously had a spy somewhere in the castle. Removing her outer robe, Hermione set it on a chair. A vision of squashing the reporter in her Animagus form danced through her thoughts and she smiled.

"Now I'll have to shag my former professor," she groused softly, shivers running up and down her spine as a draft passed through the room. Knowing Rita, she'll stay up all night, watching a copy of their marriage contract and looking to see the validation stamp appear once the deed was done. It was times like these that she actually hated magic.

"I can see it now." Hermione sat on the sofa and bowed her head. "The front page will read, ' Twenty-Four-Year-Old Virgin Loses It to Forty-Five-Year-Old Ex-Professor  
'"  
--

Yes, he could have gotten properly pissed in his quarters. But she was there. Doubt wheedled through his slightly inebriated state and he started questioning his motives.  
Was the invasion of his personal space worth the positive publicity? Since when had he started caring what people thought of him?

The inconveniences spurred by Rita Skeeter's original article were becoming less and less, but he still had to contend with student crushes and advances from their parents. Would having Hermione as his wife really make much difference?

Sighing, Severus poured a second glass of Firewhisky and looked at the ever-growing stack of essays on his desk. Tomorrow another page would be turned in this new chapter of his life. Truth be told, he hadn't really thought this through.

An image flitted through his mind and Severus lifted his glass to his lips. She had looked frightened yesterday – frightened and ethereal. Maybe it had been the way the light had hit her hair. Maybe it had been the dark depths of her eyes.

He took a gulp of his Firewhisky and set his glass down. "Perhaps I was drinking."

His statement garnered no reply -- not even from the little voice inside his head. 

Hermione Granger was definitely not his idea of…what exactly? Beautiful? He had spent most of his adult life shagging the whores in Knockturn Alley. And most of them were hags.

Even though it pained him to admit it, Hermione Granger, er, Snape did possess certain physical qualities which intrigued him. The softness of her hair had surprised him. Her scent had awoken an urge within him that he hadn't entertained for several months. The way she had trembled when he had touched her puzzled him.

For a woman who had told him, in no uncertain terms, that she did not find him physically attractive, her sighs had made him question various aspects of his opinion of her.

Just thinking about her breathless responses, the taste of almonds and vanilla, aroused him. Muttering a soft curse, Severus contemplated a quick trip to Madam Rosmerta's establishment, but thought better of it. Rita Skeeter's spies were everywhere. He could wank off, but that would do him little good for he desired the warmth of yielding flesh.

Drinking was doing little to ease the ache. In fact, the Firewhisky was only encouraging this maddening state.

--

Her thoughts were so loud that sleep was impossible. Every little noise startled her awake. She missed Crookshanks' soothing warmth and purring, but her pet was safer with Tonks and Remus. Hermione sighed, her impatience and nervousness growing with each tick of the clock.

She really did wish her husband would hurry up. It wasn't as though the circumstances of the upcoming event weren't bad enough, but to have to wait for it was a fate worse than the Cruciatus Curse.

She was as prepared as she was going to get. She had taken a Contraceptive Potion, hadn't bothered putting on her knickers, and had turned out all the lights. After all, Severus certainly didn't want to see her 'unappealing' figure. The darkness would conceal her embarrassment and her secret. He need never know she was inexperienced.

Hearing a soft click, Hermione held her breath. Was her imagination playing games on her, or was he really here? The click was followed by footsteps and she slammed her eyes shut, exhaling and gulping for air.

She heard the door open and, peeking through slitted eyelids, she could see his form outlined by the light from the sitting room.

_Please, close the door, _she chanted silently.

As if hearing her thought, her husband closed the door behind him and whispered a quick, _"Lumos," _to light his way to the bathroom.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pretended to be asleep. She could hear the slow agonizing tick of the clock and matched her breathing to it. She really did need to relax. It would only make things worse if she didn't. 

Listening to the running water, she exhaled, relieved that he had the common courtesy to shower before coming to bed. The sound lulled her into a stupor.

With a succinct click, the water stopped and shattered Hermione's momentary sense of calm. Clutching the sheet in her hand, she listened as Severus made his way to the bed. Thankfully, he had turned the light out and was making his way to his side of the bed.

She felt a tug on the duvet and a dip in the mattress. The distinct smell of liquor came to her. The smell definitely explained the duty he had needed to attend to.

It was a minimal infraction, but the fact he'd had to get pissed just to shag her stung her already tattered pride. Holding her breath, Hermione willed the prickle of tears away.

Severus shifted again, placing a hesitant hand on her hip. The touch branded her and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

"Hermione," he whispered as his breath caressed the skin below her ear.

_At least he knows who he's shagging. _She turned her head, trying to dislodge the moist breath along the slope of her neck. A shiver shot down her spine and settled below her belly. She didn't want to feel anything, much less this.

Confronted with this new sensation, she closed her eyes and let herself feel. The feeling of her nightgown being pulled upwards ushered in a new sense of panic. Severus shifted, plastering his very naked body against her side and thrusting his erection against her exposed thigh.

Smelling mint and alcohol on his breath, disappointment overrode any desire she had begun to feel. "C-could you please hur—"

Her request was muffled as his lips settled over hers. This kiss was nothing like the one they had shared earlier today. For one, it was desperate and demanding, seeking some kind of response from her. 

Feeling his fingertips brushing her bare upper thigh, Hermione groaned and clamped her legs together. Severus broke the kiss and eased away from her. The mattress dipped again and she could sense him near.

"Sit up," he instructed, his voice slurred.

As she sat up, he tugged her nightgown over her head.

The chill in the air plus her nervousness made her teeth chatter. "Hurry," she pleaded.

Prying her legs apart and kneeling between her thighs, he clumsily thrust his rigid cock against her stomach. His tongue licked a hurried path along her jaw and neck as though it were lost.

Hermione dug her fingernails into his forearms, waiting for the inevitable.

"Please hurry," she panted under his weight as he shifted over her, palming one of her breasts and tweaking the nipple. Thanking the darkness for saving what was left of her pride, Hermione ran her hands along the corded muscles of his back and arse. She had little time to adjust to the blunt feeling of his searching flesh as it twitched against her damp core.

With a violent shove, Severus pierced her innocence. His sudden violation evoked a searing pain. She cried out, pushing against his shoulders and trying to get away from him. But he was oblivious to her discomfort and maintained the pounding rhythm. 

Each movement drove him further into her body. "So bloody tight," he hissed with effort.

Hermione laughed raggedly. _If he only knew. _

"Soft," he growled against the shell of her ear.

Feeling his searching lips kiss the tears on her cheeks, Hermione turned her head to avoid the kiss.

"Please," she whimpered, praying for him to finish quickly.

He continued to mumble against her cheek, his words nonsensical. The glide of his sex within her had eased and the pain had subsided, leaving the dull pressing ache of unrealized desire.

Expelling a winded groan, Severus tensed above her. Feeling moisture gush between her legs, she grunted when her husband collapsed on top of her.

--

Opening his eyes to the barest of slits, Severus groaned. He would need to brew some Hangover Potion. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten pissed. Being a spy for several decades didn't afford such luxuries. A flash of memory penetrated the murky haze of his miserable stupor – a passionate, writhing witch, who had begged him to hurry.

The memory contained no visual record. Everything had been dark. But the sensation of her soft narrow channel had provided him welcome relief. He would have never guessed that Hermione possessed such a boundless capacity of fiery passion.

Irony certainly did have a way of biting one in the arse. History was full of Slytherin/Gryffindor marriages. He hated to berate his House, but Gryffindors had renowned sexual appetites – some of those appetites bordering on bizarre. Just look at the bloody Weasley clan.

Severus bolted upright in bed, the cold reality of his actions last night coming home to roost. He had fucked his wife, totally forgetting about repercussions and birth control.

"Bloody fucking hell," he groaned, jumping out of bed and walking to the shower. He prayed Miss Granger was as sensible as she seemed. She'd said that she'd had plenty of lovers. Surely she was on some form of birth control. If not and if she had conceived, they would be bound together forever. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, Severus could see the half-moon marks on his forearms and back.

He stepped into the shower and hurriedly completed his ablutions, seething with anger over his own stupidity and irresponsibility.

As he stomped into the bedroom, he froze. The crimson stain on the bedclothes was like a stain on his conscience. Instances of last night's drunken tryst played in his mind. Hermione hadn't been writhing underneath him in passionate play. Her cries and grunts and "please" and "hurry" weren't sexual dialogue. It hadn't been salty sweat that he'd tasted as he searched for her lips. Those had been tears.

She had been a virgin.

The bloody chit had lied to him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus sighed. Everything would be okay. He would give her a potion to take care of the problem should the need arise. Hell, he should just give her the potion anyway. Then he would go back to the Ministry and try to get this bloody mistake annulled. 

"What was I thinking?" he groused to his reflection as he pulled his clothes on.

"Well," his mirror image replied. "I would like to say that your intentions were noble, but we both know that isn't the case. Even though you really don't care what people think of you, you do get a bit testy when your normal routine is disturbed. Let's face it. Having house-elves popping in on you at all hours is a bit disconcerting, especially when they crawl into bed with you."

Severus glared at his reflection but the charmed mirror wouldn't take the hint. "Furthermore," it continued, "you harbor a deep desire for your wife. Of course--"

"I most certainly do not!" he barked.

"You would never admit it," the mirror shouted over Severus' outburst. "I am a mirror of truth. That is why the headmaster gave me to you. You're always repressing."

Severus grabbed his wand from the bedside table and hurled a curse at the enchanted mirror, causing his reflection to run for cover. Unfortunately, the curse bounced off the surface and crashed into a table.

"I am indestructible," his reflection taunted. "You can not get rid of me."

Bloody Dumbledore and his need to play therapist with him! "Oh yeah? Would you care to place a wager?" Severus sneered as he approached the full-length mirror and picked it up. "I may not be able to shatter you into a million pieces, but I can put you somewhere where I do not have to listen to your presumptuous dribble."

Having disposed of the mirror, Severus stormed out of his bedchambers and into the hall. It was time to find his wife.

--

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four –

Hermione snapped a sheet over a bed and smiled. Other than last night, her outlook on things was positive. Their marriage was front-page news. Rita Skeeter had done her best to discredit them, but she hadn't been able to paint a putrid tale. It looked as though the wicked hack had finally realized the value of a positive story rather than one filled with rumor and innuendo.

With any luck, Rita would keep them in the news and lure her stalker into the open.

Staring out the window, Hermione sighed. She had tried to skip breakfast, but Professor Flitwick had received his copy of the Daily Prophet . Once he had finished choking on his coffee and had explained the reason for his mishap before those assembled for the morning meal, a mob had descended on the Hospital Wing, asking her so many questions she had lost count.

It hadn't seemed to matter that Severus was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he always slept in on Sundays.

Hermione folded a corner of the sheet down and tucked it under the mattress, earning an odd stare from Poppy. Some things were just done better the Muggle way.

"Oh, hello, Severus!" A wide smile spread across Madam Pomfrey's face.

Turning, Hermione's breath caught. The man looked thunderously angry.

Poppy held her hand out as she walked up to him. "Congratulations!"

Scowling, Severus gave the Matron a look that stopped her in her tracks.

"I need to speak with you, Miss Gran…Hermione," he said gruffly.

Sensing the strife simmering between the newlyweds, Poppy cleared her throat. "Why don't you take a break, Hermione?"

"O-okay," she stuttered, looking at Severus' hand on her arm.

They walked several meters in silence.

"Tell me, Madam Snape," he sneered, "do you make a habit of misleading people?"

"What are you talking about?" she retorted snappishly, yanking her arm out of his grasp and stepping away from him.

"You led me to believe you were experienced," he hissed.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Oh. That."

"I never would have touched you if I had known." Severus waved his hand in the air, emphasizing his point.

Hermione paced in front of him, warily keeping her eyes on him, looking first over one shoulder at him, then the other as she turned. He stood there, arms across his chest, his brow furrowed in anger. She had done her best to make things easy for him. She knew he didn't find her physically appealing, but his morning-after attitude was very off-putting. Blinking back prideful tears, Hermione stopped in front of him and poked a finger into his chest.

"It isn't like virginity is contagious," she declared, glaring into his cold black eyes. "You didn't seem to mind the convenience of my body last night. If anyone should be angry, it should be me. I realize that you do not find me attractive. But you could have at least showed me the common courtesy of coming to bed sober. Furthermore –"

--

Severus swallowed her words as he crushed his lips to hers. He had been lucky that he'd heard the sound of someone approaching over his wife's fiery tirade, although he had to admit the kiss was not an unpleasant experience. Forcing her lips open, he felt her yield grudgingly to him. Just the simple act of kissing her aroused and angered him. Tumultuous thoughts stomped over reason and he couldn't even remember why he was snogging his wife senseless until somebody behind him cleared his throat.

"You needn't playact on my behalf," Albus Dumbledore chuckled in amusement. "I may be old, but I'm not deaf. I could hear you arguing as I approached."

It was like being dragged into the lake by the Giant Squid and any desire he had begun to feel was quickly extinguished. Severus pulled away and stared dispassionately at the intruder. "Did you need something, Headmaster?"

He watched, envy creeping into his thoughts, as Albus hugged Hermione.

"Welcome back, Miss Granger," the old wizard said. "I'm sorry I missed you at breakfast, but I was unavoidably detained."

"Thank you," she replied softly.

"I guess I should address you as Madam Snape for appearance's sake."

Snape watched as the elder wizard offered Hermione his arm. Glancing over her shoulder, her gaze lingered on him for the briefest of seconds.

"Professor Snape has told me of your arrangement," Albus murmured into Hermione's ear as they began to walk away.

"Excuse me, Headmaster," Severus stated, "but I really do need to speak with my wife alone."

Albus arched one of his infernal eyebrows in silent question as he released Hermione's elbow. "My apologies, Severus. Perhaps we may catch up on old times later, Madam Snape."

Hermione nodded, a nervous smile crossing her face. "Of course, Professor."

"If you insist on arguing with your wife, you may wish to do so somewhere less public." Dumbledore waved his hand toward the walls. "Certain walls in the castle can talk, you know."

They watched Dumbledore walk away, strolling at a leisurely pace as if expecting to be called back.

Hermione turned then, hands on her hips and a look on her face that reminded him of a disapproving Minerva. Taking a calming breath and running a hand over his face, Severus took a step back.

"Please tell me you had the common sense to take precautions last night," he stated flatly.

"Yes, I had the common sense to take precautions last night," she snapped. "Just like you, I would prefer to chew off my right arm rather than be bound to you for the rest of my life."

"I assure you, Madam Snape," he replied, "that will not be necessary."

"Will you stop that?" she asked, her inflection indicating her annoyance.

"Stop what?" He stood with his hands clenched by his sides, halfway hoping he would have another excuse to kiss her again. The only problem was that it probably wouldn't stop at a kiss.

"Stop calling me Madam Snape." His volatile wife crossed her arms over her chest. "My name is Hermione."

"Be that as it may, you are Madam Snape. It's what you wanted, isn't it?" Her chocolate eyes grew wide and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. Stalking her, he matched every step she took, closing in on her and invading her space. "Tell me, Madam Snape. Why didn't you ask one of the Weasley boys to marry you?

"You're perfectly content to dangle our faux marriage and my hide as bait to catch your unwanted admirer." Her back was against the cold stone wall and Severus trapped her. He could see the gentle fall and rise of her chest. "If anyone should feel put out, it's me."

Her palms flattened against his chest and she tried to push him away.

"You probably believed I was the most convenient choice," Severus rasped into her ear, feeling her hands fist his robes. "Was Weasley not good enough for you? How long did you date him? You and he were quite the item, if memory serves."

--

She blanched, his mention of Ron bringing back the painful memories of discovery and rejection. Ron hadn't intended to be the catalyst of her self-imposed celibacy. They had dated for three years and she had never suspected that he was gay. He hadn't figured it out for himself until that third year.

It was a blow to her blossoming sexual appetites – finding out her boyfriend was gay. She had blamed herself. Then she had blamed him. In the end, they had finally realized that no one was to blame.

"How is it that you and Weasley never consummated your relationship?" he murmured against her cheek. As much as she wanted to push him away, she kept pulling him closer.

"That's none of your business," she replied breathlessly.

He stepped back and looked into her eyes, one of his hands running up and down the length of her hip and waist.

"Pity," Severus stated, releasing her.

Seizing the moment, Hermione made her escape, fleeing down the hall into the infirmary. She slammed the door and leaned against it. Who the hell did he think he was?

Severus' rhetorical question echoed in her mind with no answer. Damn him to Hades! She crossed her arms over her chest to ease the ache, the unwelcome feelings mocking her attempts at self-control.

Over the years, she had clung to the drudgery of her apprenticeship. Her ambition had become her lover. Instead of dating, she had studied, seeking the coveted position at St. Mungo's. There had been several opportunities for parties and dates, but she'd watched them go by with her self-imposed resolve and cowardly ways.

Finding out her boyfriend was gay had been a blow not only to her blossoming sexuality, but it had severely damaged her self-esteem as well.

"Are you back so quickly, Hermione?" Poppy called out from the closet.

Hermione watched as a Healer in one of the portraits curtsied and walked out of her frame.

"Yes!" Hermione replied loudly as she strode across the ward.

Carrying various medical supplies and walking out of the closet, Madam Pomfrey huffed. "A letter just arrived for you. It's a thick one too! The owl practically dropped it on my head. I started to open it, thinking it was for me, but then realized it wasn't."

Hermione grabbed the supplies out of Poppy's arms and helped her set them down. "I'm sorry. It must be from my parents. I promised I would write them once I'd settled in. My mail is forwarded to the Ministry. I'll write them and tell them to send the letters through Severus."

The older witch giggled. "You don't want to send it through him. You're letters will get mixed in with his fan mail and undoubtedly wind up burned."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Why did it not surprise her that Severus burned his fan letters?

"Until you get your forwarding address straightened out, feel free to send your letters through me." Poppy swished and flicked her wand, levitating the supplies to various cabinets throughout the ward. She held out the letter.

Pausing, Hermione sighed and took the letter. "Are you sure? I don't want to be too much trouble."

"It's no problem at all." The matron's smile was warm and sincere. "It's slow, and you weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? After all, you're a newlywed!"

Hermione smiled nervously, wondering how many people at Hogwarts actually knew the truth. "Th-thank you."

--

Some would consider what he'd just done to be illegal. But the Ministry had no laws against Legilimency. Severus had slipped into her thoughts with ease, feeling her inner turmoil. So Weasley was the one to blame for her emotional scars.

Severus eyed the Hospital Wing door warily. Hermione was so young. She'd only just begun being marred by life. The remnants of his philosophical side pondered the dormant sexuality of his fledgling bride. The possibilities were boundless. She had yet to realize her full potential.

He'd taken her virginity, the memory of it mired in a drunken haze. Why had he gotten drunk?

His silent question went unanswered as the heavy door of the Hospital Wing opened and Hermione walked out. She was looking down, gently opening what looked like a letter. As she stopped to read the letter, Severus watched as the expectant look one normally had at receiving a letter turned to one of anger and terror.

Her distress was obvious and drew him to her as her eyes continued to scan the pages of the letter. It was as though she couldn't tear her eyes away from the correspondence.

"What is it?" he asked sternly.

Hermione jumped, clutching the letter to her chest. Her eyes were wild and she glanced from side to side. "This was a mistake. We need to get the marriage annulled."

Crossing his arms across his chest, he peered down his beak-like nose. "You do realize that is impossible. As soon as we consummated the marriage, an annulment was no longer an option."

"Then we need to get a divorce," she snapped as she tried to walk past him.

"Whatever for?" he asked derisively, catching her arm.

Shaking the letter at him, Hermione tried to pull away from him. "He's crazy. He's watching me. He thinks you've given me a love potion. He's going to kill you."

She looked terrified -- for him, he realized with something of a start. Her concern for him fleetingly touched something deep within him – the something in him that he had smothered so long ago. His cynical nature stamped on the unfamiliar longings – someone actually caring for him.

He laughed, the sound contemptuous and harsh. "That is good news, indeed, Madam Snape. Your admirer has surfaced sooner than I had expected. With any luck, he will attempt to kill me, thus exposing his identity. I shall –"

"You don't get it!" she cried, still trying to pull away from him but he kept a firm grip on her arm. "He's obsessed. He's watching me. He's been watching me all morning!" She shoved the letter toward him and Severus had no choice but to take it or let it fall to the floor.

Letting go of her arm, he scanned the letter.

My Dearest Love,

Fear not for I forgive you! You are under the spell of a powerful potion, undoubtedly brewed by the serpentine Potions master of Hogwarts. My heart burns with hatred for him, but always love for you. You suffer his touch and I am powerless to defend you. But the day is coming – the day when I shall swoop down and save you from the hideous wizard. The Death Eater will soon meet the same sticky end that his cohorts met during the final battle.

Once he is dead, I will devote all of my time searching for the antidote to his dastardly potion. I, like you, will persevere through these difficult times…

The letter went on, mostly romantic dribble and observations. The lunatic was right, though. Her hair was somewhat appealing when the sunlight hit it just right.

Staring into her eyes, Severus resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and take what the author of the letter accused him of. The death threats were meaningless to him. He'd spent his entire life with the specter of death looming over him. He was almost happy to see his old friend had returned.

Folding the letter, he handed it to his wife. "I'm touched by your concern," he said mockingly, "but I assure you that I can handle myself. I survived Voldemort. I'm sure that I can survive your admirer."

--

TBC

A/N – Here's a hint. The stalker is a character from canon and it isn't either Lucius Malfoy.


	5. Chapter 5

Warning! Mature graphic content ahead!

Chapter Five –

Hermione stared at the page, unable to focus on the words of the spell book. She could put her head down on the table and take a nap, but she wouldn't get any worthwhile sleep that way. Closing the book with a heavy sigh, Hermione looked at the antique clock that clicked silently above Madam Pince's counter.

"Surely he's asleep by now," she muttered softly. Stifling a yawn, Hermione stood up and sent the book to its proper place. The faint form of a ghost floated toward her and she moved to step out of the way. The ghost moved closer and she couldn't look away.

It was the Bloody Baron. He floated over her and nodded in acknowledgment, sending a chill up and down her spine. She didn't know whether to be flattered or spooked. The Baron was one of the creepiest ghosts at Hogwarts. He watched her as he made his way across the room.

It had been a week since the threatening letter had arrived. As usual, the letter had been a dead end – untraceable. Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick and the House ghosts now knew the nature of her and Severus' marriage.

For appearance purposes, she resided in the dungeons. Not only did she reside in the dungeons, she was sleeping in Snape's bed. It seemed like the Fates were conspiring against her. After all, she really didn't want to sleep with Snape. Or did she?

His bed was the only place to sleep. His office, classroom, and the Slytherin common room were off limits. And the sofa in his sitting room was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture she'd even had the misfortune to sit on.

She had tossed and turned that second night. It was like the bloody couch was cursed. Hermione made her way to the dungeons, looking over her shoulder and watching the Baron float into the floor and disappear.

--

Severus swiped his quill across the essay irritably, waiting for his wife to come to bed. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he looked at the clock, trying to focus on the numbers.

It was late and he was tired.

He really couldn't blame her, though. He'd manipulated recent events and certain pieces of furniture to get Hermione back into his bed. It had been easy, convincing her and the other faculty members that the illusion of their marriage be maintained.

Although she had to sleep in the dungeons, that did not mean she would share his bed. So, he went to work, using his Slytherin cunning, to wear her down.

The Slytherin common room was off limits to her based solely on the fact that she was a Gryffindor. She couldn't go to his office or the Potions' classroom, either. He'd warded both rooms. So that had left his living quarters.

Once he realized that she intended sleeping on the sofa, he'd hexed it, making it so uncomfortable he couldn't even sit on it anymore.

Severus grinned, remembering the feel of her sliding into bed next to him. Yes, she'd put a mountain of pillows between them, but it made little difference. He could get rid of those pillows. He'd successfully corralled the Gryffindor witch into his domain.

The bloody mirror of truth was right. He did desire Hermione. His plan was simple. Seduce her and fuck her. Once this marriage was no longer necessary, they could go their separate ways.

They had spent eight nights sleeping together, nights where he had explored the depths of his control. His dreams were pornographic, images of supple, pink flesh yielding as he penetrated her virgin passage danced through his mind. Severus woke every morning, hard and ready to make his dreams a reality.

Other than a few polite words before bedtime, they had hardly spoken to one another.

He did not see the Bloody Baron descend from the ceiling, but he felt the chill in the air as the ghost drew near. "Well?" Severus asked, looking at the transparent manifestation of one of the most notorious Slytherins.

"She's on her way," the ghost reported, then floated away.

Severus extinguished the lamp and made his way to the bedroom.

--

Hermione swore, seeing the light under the bedroom door. Did the man ever sleep? It wasn't as if waking up with his erection pressed against her arse was bad enough, but talking to him before bed was even worse.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione pushed the door open and walked into the bedchambers. She averted her gaze and made her way to the bathroom. The dungeon may be a cold place, but the bedroom was pleasantly warm – warm enough that her husband did not feel the need for pajamas.

Having finished her ablutions, she entered the room, relieved to see that Severus had turned off his light. She slid into bed, pulling the pillow from under her head and placing it between them.

"I would appreciate it if you would be in the sitting room by nine," Severus stated as if he were already in the middle of a conversation. "As Head of Slytherin House, I have certain responsibilities. One of those responsibilities is the safety of those residing here – including you."

Sitting up, Hermione grabbed her wand and murmured the spell that granted them light. "What?" she asked snappishly, just wanting to close her eyes and drift blissfully off to sleep.

He sat up, the duvet slipping down to his lap.

Her eyes fell to the smattering of dark, wiry hair that trailed from his chest to just below the covering.

--

Seeing the hunger in her eyes, Severus felt the desire he'd tried to ignore ignite. "I would think present circumstances would dictate some measure of awareness from you. We may not have heard from your admirer for several days now, but it does not mean that he is gone. Hogwarts is not impregnable. From now on, you should be back here by nine o'clock. I'm sure the ghosts have better things to do than to keep track of you."

His wife sputtered in frustration, getting onto her knees and tossing the pillow to the foot of the bed. "The ghosts have been spying on me?" Her voice was shrill and her breath was raspy. "Was this your idea?"

"Yes." Severus was unrepentant. If she followed suit, he would have no problem exploiting her fierce temper. "I only wanted to help you. Besides, I have things to do here other than follow you around and make sure you don't do anything foolish."

"Something foolish? Like what?" she growled. "Hold a press conference? Start looking for the lunatic? Why should you give a damn, anyway? Your public image has improved. After a few more months, the story of our marriage will become boring. Then we can get divorced and go our separate ways. You –"

With the speed of a striking snake, Severus pulled her against him, grunting softly as the weight of her upper torso settled across his lap. His lips captured hers, trying to pacify the lust until she begged him to take her.

Hermione moaned, pushing up on her elbows to deepen the connection and unknowingly allowing him even greater liberties.

--

Gliding her tongue along Severus' lips, Hermione shuddered. Her sleep-deprived mind slowed and she gave herself over to the sensations that throbbed between her thighs. This was wrong. How could she feel like this after everything that had happened?

The question echoed in the void of her consciousness as his sensual assault continued.

His palm molded her cloth-covered breast, gently brushing his fingertips against her pebbled nipple. Arching her back, she broke the kiss and tried to think rationally. Staring at the shadows her wand cast about the room, Hermione tensed.

"Stop," she whispered, trying to push him away and extract herself from his arms.

But Severus had other ideas as he licked a path toward the back of her ear. "I won't hurt you," he assured her seductively, nipping her earlobe gently.

Shuddering, Hermione melted against him, yet continued her struggle to resist his charms. "It-it's not that. The lights…"

One of his hands gathered the hem of her nightgown and she caught it between hers. He wasn't drunk. Sober, he would take one look at her and make some excuse and she would be left sexually frustrated and blaming herself.

She believed he was coming to his senses as he released her and turned on the bedside lamp. Crawling away, Hermione yelped as strong hands grabbed her ankle and pulled her backwards, causing her nightgown to ride up. He flipped her onto her back and moved between her legs.

"He was a fool," Severus whispered, leaning down and placing kisses along her jaw.

"W-who?" Hermione frowned, her eyes rolling in ecstasy as she felt his callused palm brand her hip.

"The man who squandered your passion." His breath was hot against her cheek. "You're beautiful and I want to see the expression on your face as I show you what you are capable of."

The words melted her resolve, but she still hesitated. "But you said –"

Placing a gentle kiss upon her lips, Severus silenced her. "Words that were spoken in haste and anger. Words I regret."

As much as she wanted to be swayed by his apologetic words and the endless depths of his eyes, Hermione did not acquiesce. "Please don't."

His hand moved from her hip to her warm mound. "You desire me as much as I desire you, Hermione. Why deny your feelings? I can feel the heat. If I slip my fingers between the lips of your sex, what will I find?"

She blushed, shifting uncomfortably. She wasn't about to tell him that she could feel the wetness between her thighs. "Nothing," she lied breathlessly, wanting to hide her face. All she could do was shake her head from side to side. One hand was trapped by her side while the other pushed against his chest.

Feeling his knuckles brush against her mons, Hermione slipped farther into the silken threads of the web he had spun around her. "Severus," she moaned his name as if pleading for her soul.

His hand traversed the curvy expanse of her midriff and cupped the goose-pimpled skin of her breast, deftly plucking the nipple. "Say it again," he murmured against the column of her neck as he sucked on the sensitive flesh.

"Huh?" she stammered, no longer able to remember any of the reasons why she should deny him.

"My name," he rasped, relinquishing his hold on her breast and shifting so that he was kneeling between her thighs. Grabbing her hips, he angled them to receive him. The only barrier between them were her knickers.

"Please, Severus," she begged, grinding her core against his erection.

He hissed but held still above her. He looked at her discarded wand, then back to her. "You have no idea how much I want to spell your clothing away and have you," he growled.

Releasing her, Severus backed away and slipped his fingertips under the elastic of her knickers. "But why deny myself the pleasure of removing them."

Writhing in front of him, she could feel the throb of want and need mingle in her loins. She was vaguely aware of him dragging her knickers down her legs. Then he grabbed her wand and pointed it at her nightgown. It tore down the middle, but still clung to her sweaty skin.

Severus crawled up her body and peeled the material away from her breasts. She didn't feel the need to cover herself as she watched his head descend and felt his lips and tongue lave her nipple.

Hermione arched her back, earning an appreciative growl from her soon-to-be lover.

"Gryffindor passion," he said between licks and nips. "Just as I suspected."

His fingers answered his earlier question, slipping between her swollen feminine lips and finding her wetness.

Hermione gasped.

"Your skin is like ivory," he stated as he kissed his way from one breast to another.

Moaning, she grabbed his wrist and held it to her center, rotating her hips in an effort to ease her ache.

"Come for me, Hermione." His thumb circled her pert nub and his fingers delved into her heat.

The rhythm was maddening. It was as though he could tell when she was closing in on her orgasm, and just when she was, he would back away. "Please," she cried. Her back bowed in want.

Severus licked the valley of her breasts and made his way down to her belly, stopping for the breath of a second to flick his tongue into the dip of her navel. He nuzzled lower and Hermione froze, poised on a strange ledge that she'd only ever read about.

The first touch of his tongue upon her clitoris sent rippling effects of pleasure coursing through her body. Fisting her hands in his hair, she looked between her legs. Her lust-filled eyes locked with his and she came undone.

--

He could feel and taste her release and grinned as he kept licking her. Every time his tongue swiped the oversensitive bundle of nerves, she shuddered. He had been right. His wife's passion was his for the taking. He could teach her so much and benefit in the process.

Giving her femininity one last lick, Severus mounted her. Rubbing the crown of his shaft between the slick layers, he was unable to resist the call of her body. With a brutal thrust, he sheathed himself, cursing his own weakness for the look of startled pain that marred the perfect expression of bliss on her face.

She cried out, her chocolate eyes wide with wonder and questions. He could feel her adjust around him, flexing her muscles. Seeing to his lover's comfort, he stayed still within her. Her body was like a hot vice, welcoming and promising the release that had tormented him this past week.

"Please," she panted beneath him, "don't stop."

Severus couldn't help but laugh bitterly. He couldn't stop if he wanted to, and he really didn't want to. Wanting to feel her orgasm around his thickness, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him and trapping his needy member between their bodies.

She looked confused and frustrated.

"You're in control," he moaned in agony, lifting her hips. "Take me in your hand and guide me."

He almost disgraced himself as she touched him, but the glide of her slick tightness over his shaft stopped him. She rocked back and forth hesitantly, her inexperience showing.

"Gods," he hissed through clenched teeth. Severus slid his fingers between her feminine lips and plucked her distended nub. She stilled, trying to catch her breath as he coaxed her to another height. She was tightening around him, but his orgasm was so far away that he couldn't possibly reach it with her.

He coaxed her hand between her legs, guiding her fingers against the bundle of nerves. A sensual blush enflamed her skin. Grabbing her hips, Severus pounded into her mindlessly. As much as he wanted to close his eyes and revel in his impending release, he watched her.

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, a look of concentrated euphoria on her face.

"Look at me," he commanded, thrusting himself as far as he could go and holding himself there.

Hermione's eyes snapped open. They were glazed over and he doubted that she could even see him.

"I…ah…w-want…ugh!" she wailed, her back arching and the walls of her sex clamping around him.

Severus shuddered, using her climax to bring forth his own. It was a powerful end, making him believe in things his cynic soul had long forgotten. He needed to put this in a Pensieve.

--

Ignoring her mentor's smirk when she arrived, Hermione busied herself with her daily tasks. She had tried to charm the various love bites, but she had no practice with that particular charm. She didn't know how she was going to make it through the day.

For one, she was sore in places she had never felt before. Last night had been embarrassing, yet amazingly satisfying. She had woken up alone this morning. Would Severus make love to her again? Was last night a fluke?

"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey!" a fifth-year Ravenclaw called excitedly from the hall, helping a fellow student into the ward and onto the nearest bed.

The student groaned, holding her head and muttering nonsensical bits and pieces of various spells.

"I didn't mean to do it," William stated, panic in his voice. "Allison said it would work."

"Conjure a Patronus, Draught of Peace," Allison mumbled softly, wincing in pain and rubbing her forehead.

"What happened?" Poppy questioned, slightly flustered.

"You have to understand," William pleaded. "O.W.L.s are only a few weeks away."

"Is it a spell or a potion?" the matron as she waved her wand over the incoherent student.

"A sp-spell," he answered nervously. "A modified memory spell."

Poppy turned toward Hermione. "Madam Snape?"

"Is this her wand?" Hermione asked, grasping the piece of wood Allison clutched.

William nodded.

Stepping forward, Hermione swished the wand over Allison and recited several incantations.

"We were only trying to memorize the spells," William continued to whine.

A light orange glow surrounded the girl's head and she went slack. Heaving a sigh of relief, Hermione bowed her head. Most of her apprenticeship at St. Mungo's had been spent in the Janus Thickey Ward with the patients with permanent spell damage. Minus the reason for his being there, she had enjoyed seeing Neville every week.

She hadn't been able to help Frank or Alice Longbottom. The Cruciatus Curse was an Unforgivable for a reason. Even though there was no hope for his parents, Neville came every week.

She'd come to know the other residents and had gained a commendation for her work with Memory Charm damage. Although she hadn't been able to cure Gilderoy Lockhart, Hermione had recommended a different treatment option – instead of trying to get his memories back, why not make new ones?

She hadn't been able to complete his therapy. Memory Charms weren't as permanent as the wizarding society thought. That's why the Obliviate wasn't an Unforgivable. Unfortunately, Professor Lockhart had hexed himself and had used Ron's broken wand.

Allison's eyes snapped open and she sat up in bed. "W-what happened?"

"Fortuna was watching over you!" Madam Pomfrey lashed out, brushing Allison's hair off her forehead. "Thank Merlin, Madam Snape was here."

"Thank you, Madam Snape," William murmured apologetically.

"The Headmaster will hear about this." Poppy wagged her finger at both students. "I wouldn't count on going to Hogsmeade this tomorrow, if I were the two of you."

Hermione smiled as the matron chastised the children. They probably thought she was being too harsh on them, but they didn't realize that Poppy had been afraid for them.

Walking over to the window, she stared at the village below. She had been cooped up here for a week and was looking forward to getting away for a bit.

--

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Warning! Graphic mature content ahead!

Chapter Six –

Severus stormed through the halls, making his way to the Hospital Wing. He thought he'd made himself perfectly clear last night. She should be in their quarters by nine o'clock. It was now nine oh two and her blatant disregard of his request vexed him.

He had hated leaving her this morning, but knew that she would be sore. Her chestnut hair had covered her face as she slumbered on her stomach. The urge to kneel behind her, grab her hips and slip inside her had almost broken his resolve.

The witch was addictive.

It really was unfortunate that their marriage wasn't permanent. The thought stopped him mid stride.

"Bloody fucking hell," he muttered lowly. Where had that thought come from?

The passion, his libido whispered lustily.

Shaking the absurd thought from his head, Severus started walking again, each step more hesitant than the last. Hermione Granger was no different than the whores of Knockturn Alley.

If he had been looking in a mirror, his reflection would have winced. That statement was harsh – even by his usual standards. He'd channeled her raw passion – channeled it into something intangible, indescribable. This was something which needed to be explored.

--

Thumbing through the book of healing spells, Hermione paid little mind to the time. Poppy was taking the evening off, which enabled her to catch up on some much needed reading. There weren't any students to attend to. The next Quidditch game was weeks away. Minus this morning, the Hospital Ward was actually quite uneventful.

"Tell me something, Madam Snape." Her husband's sultry voice sounded irritated behind her, causing her to gasp and drop the thick book on the desk. "Do you take pleasure in ignoring my simple requests?"

Hermione looked at the clock and saw that it was a few minutes past nine o'clock. She tried to push her chair back and stand, but Severus was standing too close. Undoubtedly, the bloody git was trying to intimidate her. "Your simple request is unreasonable. As you can see, I am studying."

She could feel his heat against her back as he leaned closer. "I am responsible for your safety," he stated, his inflection a mix between annoyance and something else she wanted to ignore.

"I can take care of myself," she replied, trying to cover up the breathlessness in her voice and failing miserably. "Go to bed."

Shivering as he brushed the hair from the nape of her neck, Hermione held her breath. His lips branded her skin, sending jolts of unadulterated lust straight to her loins. That's all this was – lust. Nothing lasting. Nothing that she truly wanted.

"Not without you," Severus retorted before he nipped at her delicate skin.

Instinct dictated she flee, but she was powerless. "Don't be absurd," she managed to croak. "Surely you don't think last night meant anything. It was a fluke…a serious lack of j-judgment." Her eyes fluttered closed and she bit her lip to stifle her groan.

Her Slytherin husband continued to toy with the sensitive skin on her neck, which she arched for his attentions. His lips blazed a wet path from neck to jaw, then from jaw to lips. His lips hovered above hers, seemingly waiting for something…or someone.

They were upside down, his nose to her chin, her eyes to his Adam's apple. She couldn't see his eyes. She didn't need to. She knew what she would see – the gleam of victory as she closed the tiny gap to complete the kiss.

Gentleness was a concept she was glad he was unfamiliar with, she realized, as his tongue plundered the deep cavern of her open lips. Thrusting her tongue against his, she gained the advantage and tasted him, mapping the contours of his mouth and teeth. His hands held her cheeks, deepening the gesture – possessing and proving his point.

Finally, the need to breathe broke them apart. Taking what she hoped were deep calming breaths, Hermione forced her chair backwards and tried to stand, but Severus pushed the chair out of the way and turned her around. The press of his body spoke volumes.

"Go-go to bed," she whispered, looking at his swollen, wet lips possessively.

Severus shifted, forcing a knee between her legs and rubbing his thigh against the crux of her thighs. She could feel her robe moving against her legs, but didn't realize until the cool air of the room hit them that the wizard meant to have her.

"Stop." One of her hands fisted in his robe while the other pushed against his chest. Her struggle worked against her, opening her for more of his assault. One of his fingers wiggled under her knickers and dipped into her core. She closed her eyes, damning her own weakness while silently praising his skill.

There she was, pressed wantonly against a large sturdy desk, wiggling her hips and helping her husband remove her underwear. After all, this is what she wanted. He'd said that he would compensate her for marrying him. Why not gain a sexual education under his obviously skilled tutelage?

"Do you really want me to stop, Hermione," he husked against her ear, taking her earlobe gently between his teeth. "Or do you want me to turn you around and bend you over? Do you want me to lift your robe and take you?"

Turning in his arms, she leaned forward and braced herself on the desk. She offered herself, unabashedly looking over her shoulder and silently accepting his challenge. She stepped out of her knickers and widened her stance invitingly. Clenching her jaw to keep from begging, Hermione laid her face against the hard wood of the furniture and prayed that she wasn't making a fool of herself. After all, she was practically begging him to fuck her.

Feeling the cool air against her bum as he lifted her robe, she mewled in disappointment when he stepped away. She could hear the rustle of fabric, then jumped as she felt his hands mold the fleshy cheeks of her ass. With the press of his silken rod against the entrance of her passage, she prepared for the pain.

There was none as he slid into the slick canal, completing the union. Shame flamed in her cheeks and she was glad that she could not see the smug expression that was assuredly on his face.

--

Rapture was upon him and he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from their conjoined body. His senses would be his undoing. The sight of his pale flesh plunging into her drove him deeper. The shaft glistened with her natural essence. The smell of her acceptance strengthened him. The feel of her constrictive sheath destroyed his control and he tumbled over the edge of reason, releasing his semen.

Youth was a concept lost to him long ago. Silently he cursed his lack of stamina. When she had offered herself, the act had blinded him to anything other than his lust. He could feel her trembling unsatisfied beneath him. He pulled away, tucking his flaccid member into his trousers. As much as he hated to deprive himself of the delectable sight of her arse, he tugged her robe in place and helped her stand.

He could hear the unspent passion in her breathing and see the frustration in the way she scurried away from him. With hooded eyes, he watched as she carried the book that she'd been reading to its place.

"You should go," Hermione stated, her voice quivering as she continued to stare at the bookshelf.

Bending over, Severus scooped up her knickers and pocketed them. He approached her, clasping her shoulders from behind. "Not without you."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and sidestepped his gesture of affection. "Haven't you done enough to humiliate me in one night?" She turned, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Besides, it appears that you're done for the night," she hissed and walked around the cabinet. "Just leave. I'm staying here tonight."

He couldn't ignore the underlying challenge so he took a rash Gryffindor approach toward the situation. Cornering her against the cabinet, he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her toward the fireplace.

"I assure you, wife," he chuffed with effort over her shrieks of protest, "I am not finished with you."

Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he stepped into the fireplace.

--

Hermione didn't know which was worse – her embarrassment or his arrogance. She twisted and turned, hacking and coughing as they exited the Floo in their dungeon quarters. "Put me down!"

"As you wish," he huffed, heaving her onto the bed. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at her with a retaliatory gleam in his eyes. "_Incarcerous_."

As she crawled across the bed, ropes from Severus' wand wrapped around her ankles, causing her to stumble in her escape attempt. Ropes bound her wrists, twisting and turning her so that she had no choice but to flip onto her back. Once on her back, the ropes tightened, pulling her arms above her head and legs apart.

"You lunatic! Let me go this instant!"

Severus grinned, seemingly pleased with his handiwork. "No."

She renewed her struggle, closing her eyes and licking her lips. Not only was she extremely wet between her legs, but this was turning her on even more. This is just bloody wonderful. Not only does he have the power to shag me as he pleases, but I like it! Merlin preserve me!

Opening her eyes, she watched as he undressed. His opaque eyes were clouded with lust. His body was lean with very little hair. What hair he did have was black and patterned along his body, which begged for eyes to travel along that path. Her hungry gaze lingered on his semi-erect shaft nestled in a patch of black hair. She blushed.

Standing at the foot of the bed, he watched her struggle in vain. With two swishes and flicks from his wand, her clothing parted and rolled to either side of her body. The ropes obeyed his silent commands too, one of them loosening to provide enough slack so that she could move her leg.

She should kick him, hurt him before he hurt her. Humiliation is something one should not suffer on a regular basis. Before they divorced, she would seek her revenge. Just as she kicked, Severus caught her ankle and removed her shoe and stocking.

His eyes met hers, the look in them amused, yet smoldering. Severus knelt on the bed and cradled her foot in the palms of his hands. "Even the arch of your foot…" he mumbled placing a kiss on the top of her foot.

Her world went dark as she closed her eyes. When moisture surrounded her big toe, she jumped. "Oh, Gods!" she groaned, realizing the erotic potential for foot fetishes. He suckled each toe in turn, the silent promise of fulfillment a mere heartbeat away.

"Surely you realize," he whispered between licks, "that it was never my intention to humiliate you."

Hermione shivered as his hand rubbed circles along the calf of her leg.

"I merely mean to show you pleasure," Severus continued, nipping his way higher along her calf muscle. "To make amends for the other night." His hand traveled higher, his fingers brushing across her silken nest.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she pulled on the magical bindings, trying to ease the ache which had simmered to a rolling boil. "Please," she whimpered, "touch me."

"Where?" he asked, laving the sensitive skin of her hip. "Where would you like me to touch you?"

Arching her back as his fingertips grazed her stomach, she moaned.

"Here?" he murmured at the top of her right thigh, nipping at the ripe flesh. "Or here?" he teased, licking the top of her left thigh.

Tears of frustration streamed down her cheeks. "Anywhere! Everywhere! Touch me, please!"

Granting her request, Severus eased his fingers into her sex and pressed his thumb against the jutting nub. She thrust her hips against his hand, ignoring the bite of the magical bindings on her wrists and ankles. Her orgasm overtook her -- a sharp, quick burst of pleasure stole through her body.

She tried to twist away from the pleasure, but her Slytherin lover was unrelenting. With each flick...each stroke, he plucked more bliss from her body than she thought she was capable of. "Please," she panted, half in agony, half in want.

"Anything," he growled, pulling his fingers from her body and kneeling between her legs. The bindings on her ankles dissolved and Severus lifted one of her legs, placing it on his shoulder and rubbing his needy sex along the swollen lips of her core.

Feeling him enter her once again, Hermione keened. He stilled, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer, and impaling her deeper on his shaft.

"My passionate Gryffindor," Severus sighed, shuddering above her. His dark eyes peered into hers and she felt as though she were falling. His strokes were calculated and deep, reaching places within her she'd only ever read about. She was nearing the precipice, blissfully unaware of the words her husband muttered above her.

Closing her eyes, she surrendered, whispering a shaky "always" to an age-old question, and succumbing to the darkness that surrounded her like a shroud.

--

Pulling his trousers on, Severus glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping witch in his bed.

His reflection in the mirror stared at him disapprovingly. "What have you done?"

He pulled his shirt over his head and ignored the man in the mirror.

"You selfish bastard!" his reflection railed angrily. "I can't believe you did it!"

Severus continued to get dressed.

"And what will happen when she leaves? What will happen when she files for divorce and finds it impossible to do so?"

Tugging on his cuffs, Severus continued to ignore the blasted mirror. He had invoked an old magic last night, one that would bind Hermione to him forever. The mirror was right. He was a selfish bastard. He'd acted in haste. He'd lost control. But there was something there, something intangible that he recognized on a primitive level.

"You fucking git!" the mirror hissed scathingly.

"Will you be silent," Severus warned softly. "I have to go to Hogsmeade and attended to duties. She'll wake soon. Make sure she does not leave the castle."

"And just how am I supposed to do that?" the mirror huffed indignantly.

"Improvise," Snape snapped, beginning to walk away. "Oh, yes. If you even hint to my wife what has happened, I shall bury you so deep in the bowels of this castle that no one will ever find you."

Moving toward the fireplace, he pinched some Floo powder and went on his way.

His fading reflection tsked at the poor decision the Potions master had made. "That's the problem, isn't it? She isn't really your wife. This was never meant to be permanent."

--

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N – Here is where I give big, wet, sloppy kisses to my beta readers, Kathy Rose and Larilee. Yes, I know you two would rather have money. More author's notes are at the bottom.

--

Chapter Seven –

Hugging her robe about her shoulders, Hermione hurried through the streets of Hogsmeade. Wizards and witches scurried from shop to shop, the cold nip of winter encouraging haste. She stomped past Zonko's Joke Shop and Gladrags, a route she had taken many times as a student. 

Kicking the mud off her boots, she inhaled, reveling in the fresh air and anticipating her purchase at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Not only was she outside the walls of Hogwarts, she was in one of her favorite places. This was the perfect remedy for her troubled thoughts – fresh air and a new quill.

For today, she would forget about Severus Snape and her unwanted admirer. For once, she would be normal. (Whatever that was.) She would throw caution to the wind and have fun.

She walked into the shop and smiled at the shopkeeper. Looking over the variety of quills, she mentally ticked off how much she could spend and what she would spend it on. Her savings had taken quite a hit after she'd been sacked, but it was steadily recovering.

Hermione ran her hands over the feathers and wondered what effect one would have on her husband. She laughed at herself. The idea was ludicrous. Severus would never relinquish control. Rubbing her wrists self-consciously, she remembered when he had released her from the magical bindings.

He'd told her that she was in control, and with that control, she had begged him to do things to her as she had explored the unfamiliar realm of passion. Something had changed last night. She felt connected as if she were a piece to something bigger.

"I guess if you're not used to mind-blowing sex, you'd definitely feel different," she mumbled to herself, lost deep in thought and not paying attention to anything around her. She twirled the shaft of the feather between her fingertips and let her imagination run wild.

Images of her husband's superior smirk as he swept the feather over her body drove a lance of passion through her entire being. Feeling the flush creep through her body, Hermione looked around guiltily. The shopkeeper was giving her an odd look and she set the quill down quickly.

Turning to leave, she ran into a solid wall of flesh. Strong arms steadied her.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered, not even looking at the person she had run into. "Pardon me."

The strong arms did not let her go and she looked up to see a familiar face. "Neville!"

Neville smiled and cleared his throat. "Hermione."

"What are you doing in Hogsmeade?" she asked, giving him a fast hug and backing out of his embrace.

The bell on the door rang, signaling the arrival of another patron.

Clearing his throat again, Neville stared at her. "I was meeting someone, but they haven't arrived yet. Would you like to go to Madam Puddifoot's?"

"I would love to. It's –" Hermione chirped.

"You will do no such thing," the unmistakably angry voice of her husband hissed behind her. 

"Severus!" she gasped, feeling the flush of lust course through her veins once again. "You startled me."

Backing away from Severus and into Neville, Hermione accidentally stepped on the younger wizard's toes.

Neville's arms wrapped around her waist and his hand settled just below her breast.

"It isn't polite to startle people, Professor Snape," snapped Neville, uncharacteristically brave.

Hermione moved out of her former classmate's embrace and smoothed a hand over her robe. Severus scowled down at her, making her feel as though she had done something wrong.

"Be quiet, Longbottom," Severus growled. "Your opinion is not needed in this matter. Go back to the school, Hermione."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head to the side in challenge. "No." There was no way she was going to let him bully her like he had always bullied Neville. Besides, short of picking her up, tossing her over his shoulder, and carrying her out of the shop, there was no way she was leaving.

"Go back to the school, Hermione," Severus demanded, his inflection one of restrained warning.

She turned and took Neville's arm. "Come on, Neville. Let's go to Madam Puddifoot's."  
She could feel Severus' rage radiating across the room as he grunted his disapproval.

Her heart raced as she stepped outside with her fellow Gryffindor. The cool wind hit her face and took her breath away. Yes, she would have to pay the price for defying Severus tonight, but this taste of freedom, along with the look on his face, was definitely worth it.

She tugged Neville's sleeve, adrenaline encouraging her recklessness, fearful Severus would come after her. "Hurry, Neville!" she encouraged, pulling him down the alleyway and past a building. A couple of students ran past them, laughing.

"He'll be livid tonight," Hermione panted breathlessly, stumbling a little along the walk. She could see Madam Puddifoot's as they walked past the Apothecary.

"He'll never harm you again, my love," Neville murmured softly, grasping both of her hands and pulling her into a side alley between the Apothecary and Madam Puddifoot's. It looked as though they were an amorous couple, sneaking into the shadows to snog.

Hermione froze, unable to move or speak. Fear and something else held her immobile.

"I am so sorry you've had to suffer his touch," her friend bemoaned in a voice that sounded like someone else's. 

She tried to reach for her wand, but found herself unable to. It was as though she had been robbed of her free will.

"After the Matron's portrait told me what he did to you in the Infirmary last night, I knew I had to save you."

His hand slid up the sleeve of her robe, searching for and finding her wand.

Feeling the threat of bile rise in her throat, Hermione blinked. She didn't know who she was angrier with – herself or Neville – for this treachery. She was disarmed now, unable to fight him. Silently, she prayed for Severus to put aside his anger and look for her. 

Neville's soulful gaze peered into her eyes.

"I wish," he sighed, brushing errant curls from her face, "that I could take all the pain away. I wish that I could Obliviate you and make all the bad memories go away. But the Love Potion he gave you would continue to work its despicable magic."

With a surge of dismay, Hermione suddenly realized Neville, whom she had known and trusted for so long, was her stalker. The nameless, faceless person who had been hounding her was sweet, shy Neville! She almost couldn't believe his vague, neutral expression hid the soul of a stalker. Gods! How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn't she listened to Severus?

A tear would have slid down her cheek had seen been able to cry as she listened to him, his words laced with anxiety and his hand shaking as he ran his thumb over her full bottom lip.

"The only way the effects of the Love Potion will end is if one of the objects of that lust is removed from the equation. But first, I shall take you away – somewhere he can't find you." Embracing the object of his obsession, the stalker Apparated with her to his hidden lair.

--

Severus watched as Hermione walked off with Longbottom, tugging the man around the corner and out of his sight. The blasted chit! She was going to get her comeuppance tonight. He would make sure of that. The last thing he needed was a public confrontation to ruin the illusion of their happily wedded bliss. The stories had yet to die down, but at least his publicity was now favorable.

Hogsmeade was crawling with Skeeter's spies. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to be photographed at Madam Puddifoot's with that boy.

Storming out of the shop, Severus rounded the corner and made his way down the alleyway toward the sickeningly romantic spot. A perverse excitement grew within him as he contemplated the various ways he was going to fuck his wife. Perhaps he would introduce her to fellatio.

He stomped along the side of the street past the Apothecary. Looking into Madam Puddifoot's, Severus scanned the room and ignored the nervous looks of several students. His scowl deepened.

"Will Madam Snape be joining us, Professor?" Madam Puddifoot asked, unable to conceal her delight at having an adult patron.

His eyes snapped to the elderly witch's. "She isn't here already?"

"No, sir."

Panic was not an emotion he easily yielded to. "Is Neville Longbottom here?"

"No, sir." The owner looked puzzled. "Neville Longbottom? I haven't seen him in ages."

--

Augusta Longbottom folded the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and sighed. Why she subscribed to such rubbish was beyond her. Surely there were things in the Wizarding world more important than Severus Snape's sex life. Rita Skeeter should be drawn and quartered; better yet, burned at the stake, for hounding that man.

She didn't give a Hippogriff's hindquarters that the wizard's marriage seal with Hermione Granger had changed colors. She never would have figured Neville's former professor to be such a closet romantic. To bind oneself to another for all eternity was an intensely private and stupid thing to do. And she couldn't believe that the Ministry had gone to such extremes to monitor such events. A private bonding should be just that – private.

Supporting herself with her cane, Augusta stood and limped her way toward the fireplace, sighing when she heard the doorbell ring. Making her way to the foyer to greet her unwanted visitors, she made no attempt to smile. She was too old to be bothered with people who couldn't be bothered to owl ahead, especially at this time of night.

"Where is he?" a chorus of angry voices shouted.

The prospect of a confrontation hurried Augusta along. No one was going to yell at her house-elf and live to tell about it.

"What is going on here?" she bellowed as she neared the commotion.

Miffy, her house-elf, was bowing so low that the quivering servant spoke to the floor. "They come for Master Longbottom," Miffy squeaked.

Two Aurors ran past her and up the stairs.

Harry Potter and Severus Snape stood in the doorway, questioning the house-elf. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Augusta shouted, reaching for her wand, but Snape withdrew his and pointed it at the old witch. 

--

"Where is my wife?" Severus leveled his wand at Augusta's throat and practiced a restraint he didn't know he was capable of.

"How should I know?" the old witch spat haughtily, her gaze lingering over his shoulder on Potter.

"If you're protecting him, Augusta…" he menaced angrily, more enraged with himself than Longbottom's grandmother.

"Professor." Potter's voice of logic made the tattered edges of his reasoning fray even further, and it took all his willpower to keep it from totally unraveling. "Lower your wand."

The two Aurors, who had stormed upstairs, Apparated into the foyer.

"Nobody is up there, Harry," one of them stated.

"Someone had best tell me the meaning of this," Augusta demanded as she walked away from Snape in a show of open defiance.

Running a hand through his already unruly hair, Potter sighed. "Professor Snape is adamant that Neville has kidnapped Hermione."

The elderly witch looked down her nose at him in disdain. "My grandson would do no such thing! He's probably dawdling in the greenhouse. Go check for yourself."

--

Rubbing the bump on his head self-consciously, Neville moved the Mandrake seedlings onto the shelf. He would need to replant them tomorrow. It was not really a task he enjoyed. His Screechsnaps screeched and spread out their leaves as he walked by. So he grabbed his watering can and started to water them.

The greenhouse door burst open and a pane of glass shattered. In terror, he watched as one of his worst nightmares stomped on the crabgrass. Snape's black teaching robes billowed behind him, lending to Neville's fear of his former professor. 

"Wake up, Neville," he mumbled quietly, frozen in place. There was nothing he could do. Not only had he had one of the worst days in his life, but now he was having a nightmare.

Snape, his wand out, shouted, "Where is she?"

Backing away from the livid Potions master, Neville tried to duck under one of the tables. But he wasn't quick enough as he felt a hand grab his ankle and pull him backwards. He was flipped onto his back.

"Unhand my grandson," Augusta Longbottom commanded breathlessly, the definitive click-clack of her cane sounding in the distance. 

Neville tried to reach for his wand but could not find it. 

"Let him go, Snape," Harry demanded.

Neville felt the press of a wand against his Adam's apple.

"What did you do with my wife?" Snape asked, spittle flying from his mouth as though he were having a fit.

"You-you're married?" Neville gasped, wincing as a boot heel twisted into his wrist. 

--

"Do not make me restrain you, Professor Snape!" Harry threatened.

Feeling a deluge of helplessness wash over him, Severus tightened his grip on Longbottom's collar and shook the hapless wizard. "Don't play games with me, boy."

Something cracked over his head and Severus saw stars. At first he thought Potter had actually hexed him. But when he felt the sharp contact again, Severus realized that Augusta Longbottom was accosting him with her cane.

_"Accio_ cane," Potter shouted and an indignant exclamation from the old bat followed.

Augusta's attack had been successful, causing Severus to loosen his grip on Neville long enough for the young wizard to crawl away from him and under the table.

"First, I'm mugged at St. Mungo's," Neville wailed in irony, staggering to stand. "Now I'm accosted in my own home. What a wonderful day!"

Holding his head, Severus tried to stand up. At first, he had clung to the hope that Hermione had gone off with Neville to spite him. But now the sinking feeling turned into something he'd never given into before – fear.

Longbottom's demeanor and words made little sense to him. When he'd seen him this morning, he had thought he had imagined the cold hatred in his former pupil's eyes. "When was the last time you saw my wife?" Severus rasped in pain.

"I don't even know who your wife is," Neville answered.

"When was the last time you saw Hermione, Neville?" Harry asked quickly.

"Before she was sacked," Longbottom stammered, looking back and forth between him and Potter.

Finally managing to right himself, Severus stood up and brushed his robes off. Longbottom didn't have Hermione. Or, at least, this Longbottom didn't have her. How could he have been so stupid?

Someone had used Polyjuice Potion to abduct his wife. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. He ignored Potter's apologies to the Longbottoms and the declaration by Neville that he would do anything to help. Feeling as though the crucial piece to the puzzle was dancing just out of his reach, Severus groaned.

His epiphany hovered beyond the concussion the old crone had undoubtedly given him.

"When were you mugged at St. Mungo's?" Severus asked Neville, who looked as though he'd pass out at any moment. 

"Th-this morning. When I visited mum and dad." Neville brushed dirt from his robe. "It was really strange. I was taking a bubble gum wrapper from mum and the next thing I remember is waking up in a broom closet on one of the upper floors. One of the janitors found me. He helped me find my wand and fix my hair. It had been cut, and rather poorly at that."

"St. Mungo's," Potter mumbled so quietly that Severus almost hadn't heard him.

That was it! St. Mungo's was the common denominator. The feeling that he was grasping at straws pressed upon him. He would start at the hospital. He didn't care if he had to search every ward, interrogate every employee and patient. He was going to find his wife.

--

TBC tomorrow

A/N – I think it's safe to say that I dropped enough hints. Hermione's stalker is not Neville. The stalker's true identity will be revealed next chapter – honest. Thanks to all who are following this story and leaving reviews. I am truly grateful for all of the guesses, input, and general comments.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight –

Opening her eyes, Hermione focused on the wooden beams above her and shivered. Most every bone in her body ached as though she had struggled with something. Shaking her head, she tried to organize her thoughts. What had happened? Where was she? Why did she feel like she'd been hit by the Knight Bus?

Answers shimmered into coherent thoughts and Hermione froze in panic. Neville! At least she had thought he had been Neville. Taking deep breaths, she realized the need to remain calm. The soft "coo" of pigeons directed her attention to the surroundings.

Judging by her companions and the chill in the air, she must be in an attic somewhere. They had Apparated somewhere – somewhere dark. The Neville look-a-like had become worried. Still under the influence of the Imperius Curse, he had poured a Sleeping Draught into her mouth and forced her to swallow it. That was all she remembered.

Hermione sat up in bed, the springs creaking in protest. The only light in the room came from a single lamp and some holes in the roof. Standing up, she walked around the room and started looking for a way to escape.

How could she have been so stupid? Why had she involved Severus in this harebrained scheme? He was in danger, undoubtedly being stalked as she had been. She had to warn him. Yes, he had survived Voldemort, but with the Dark Lord, at least Severus knew whom he was fighting against.

Hermione dashed the tears that had welled in her eyes. This was not the time to get emotional. She needed to concentrate and try to get away from her abductor.

Feeling along a dark wall, she grasped a doorknob and wiggled it. Of course, it was locked. She was naïve to think it would be anything but locked. She continued on her path, searching for anything that would give her a hint of where she was or how to escape.

A far away sound halted her movements as she listened to a clock chime. The sound of the clock sounded so familiar. Counting the chimes, she determined that it was eight o'clock.

"Okay, Hermione," she muttered, "you have determined that you have been abducted by a crazy person, that you are being held in an attic somewhere, and it is eight o'clock in the morning."

"That is what I've always loved about you, my love," a recognizable voice called out from a darkened corner in the room. "Your ability to stay calm in difficult times got us through so many rough patches in our fight against the Dark Lord."

Hermione gulped and distanced herself from the voice. "Show yourself," she whispered shakily, still suffering lingering effects from the Sleeping Draught.

"My dear," her kidnapper replied, moving out of the concealing shadow and revealing his true identity, "there is no need for alarm."

The smiling face of Gilderoy Lockhart appeared before her, his long, blond locks in disarray and his intensely blue eyes bloodshot. He looked like a totally different wizard than when she saw him last – a week before she was sacked from St. Mungo's. Back then he had been happily pampered by Healer-In-Charge Miriam Strout.

"I know you are distressed, my love, but all will right itself once I dispose of Severus Snape. The Love Potion will no longer affect you once that vile creature is put out of our misery." With each word, he took a step closer.

"I have missed you, Hermione – dearest, sweet Hermione. Once this unfortunate event is behind us, we shall get married and live happily ever after!" Her former professor waved his arms about in a fashion that reminded her of when he had _taught _at Hogwarts.

Hermione tried to speak but couldn't find the words. She could have never imagined the outcome of this ordeal. Not only was he her former professor, but her former patient as well. She had been responsible for the development of Lockhart's new treatment plan.

Healer-In-Charge Strout had coddled him, pampering him like the celebrity he had been. Once Hermione had explained her hypothesis to the medical board, they had given her permission to proceed.

Strout had been livid.

Hermione had proposed that all attempts of recovering his memory end. They were gone – an unfortunate incident he had brought about himself. Just because his memories had been Obliviated, didn't mean his magical abilities were too.

Given the proper remedial lessons, she had theorized, it would be possible for Gilderoy to become a productive member of the wizarding community once again.

In essence, the man had been a clean slate. Hermione had been three weeks into his lessons when she had been sacked.

"My love," Gilderoy gushed, moving toward her.

Instinctively, she jumped back.

A harsh look crossed his normally docile face and he pulled his manicured hand back. "Yes," he whispered as if answering a question. "Please forgive me, dearest. I almost forgot that you are still under the influence of that potion. Undoubtedly, the bastard Obliviated, you for no Love Potion can override the power of our love."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I don't understand."

With a snap of his disheveled robe, Gilderoy pulled out his wand and lit some of the candles in the room. "When I woke up and saw you, I knew. I knew then that we were meant to be together. My injury from the final battle didn't matter to you, dearest, sweet Hermione."

She listened to his insanity, her thoughts lingering on Severus' safety. "Wh-what injury?" she asked, playing into his fantasy.

A blush filled his cheeks and the wizard looked down. "You know," he reminded, hemming and hawing.

She needed to gain his trust. That was her only way out. "No, I don't know, Profess – er -- Gilderoy. As you said, I think Snape Obliviated me."

"Of course, of course." Gilderoy started to pace, excited over his fantasy finally talking back to him. He closed the small distance between them and gathered her hands in his. She recoiled as if she'd been struck, but he was so deep into the lunacy, he paid the rebuff little mind.

"I was injured in the final battle against You-Know-Who," he whispered, bowing his head and shivering in remembrance.

Hermione stood still, rigid and fearful.

This delusional man had been tucked safely away in the Janus Thickey Ward during the final battle. "Please, tell me," Hermione pleaded, hoping she sounded sincere.

Taking a shuddering breath, his bright blue eyes looked into hers. "I'm impotent," Lockhart muttered so quickly she almost hadn't heard.

She had been so focused on getting away to warn Severus, she had forgotten about her own safety and the possible implications.

One thing was for certain. Lockhart was harmless in _that _way, and for that, she was thankful.

Hermione held her breath, feeling as though her lungs would burst. A torrent of emotions ran rampant through her thoughts. The man before her was the cause of months of sleepless nights and worry.

His actions had frightened her and her loved ones. He had threatened her family and had harmed Crookshanks (although that had never been proven). She had married Severus because of him, for Merlin's sake!

The irony of her present circumstances left a bitter taste in her mouth. The vain celebrity had been turned into a harmless, memory-less twit. She had turned the _harmless _memory-less twit into a predator who had twisted her existence into one of ceaseless disquietude.

He pressed his lips against her hands. "We were to marry," he whined, "but he took you away from me. He poisoned you – took from me what is rightfully mine!"

Hearing the fury in Lockhart's voice, she gathered her tattered wits about her and studied him. Her abductor's anger and frustration revolved around her husband and not her.

Mumbling incoherently against her hands, Gilderoy trembled.

This man was more a danger to Severus than he was to her. She needed to remain calm and redirect his attention from harming her husband. Squeezing his hand, she shushed him like a mother would a small child.

His head snapped up and piercing blue eyes stared at her as though she was a stranger to him. It only lasted a moment. His cold gaze warmed and laugh lines gathered at the corners of his eyes as he smiled.

"My love," he gasped shakily.

Smiling hesitantly, Hermione realized that she would need to keep Lockhart occupied. If he left, he'd go after Severus.

--

Storming past the ugly dummy in the front window of Purge and Dowse, Ltd., Severus ignored Potter's protests. He existed for one purpose and one purpose only now -- finding his wife and killing the bloody bastard who had taken her from him. Anger coursed through his veins, steeling his resolve.

The only problem with that anger was that he didn't know who to direct it at. He was angry with himself because he had failed in protecting his wife. She had been snatched away from him while she was veritably under his nose. He was furious with Hermione. If only his wife had heeded his advice, she would be safe.

A red light whizzed over his shoulder and smashed into some bricks, startling the Welcome Witch and those in the waiting area of St. Mungo's Hospital.

Even though a Stunner had been aimed in her general vicinity, the Welcome Witch's smile never wavered. "May I help you?"

Severus ignored her and continued to walk down the hall.

"The next Stunner will not miss, Snape!" the breathless Auror warned loudly.

Spinning around with his wand raised, Severus glowered at his former student.

Harry glared at him. "You need to calm down, Professor."

"Do not tell me to calm down," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Potter continued to approach him. "Think, Professor. Calm down and think. Use your overly touted superior intelligence and think before you act."

If it weren't for the two Aurors running up behind Potter, Severus would have hexed the young upstart out of spite. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and it was only getting worse. It was a spectacle – the hex and the shouting.

"She's my wife." Suddenly Severus felt every one of his forty-plus years.

Harry's fiery stare and defensive posture softened. "And Hermione is my friend."

"You needn't remind me," Snape snapped insultingly.

"Oh, that's rich!" Harry taunted.

Severus narrowed his eyes. He would be of no use to Hermione Stunned. Knowing Potter, the bloody prat was just waiting for him to turn his back.

Realizing they were at an impasse, Harry lowered his wand slowly. "Calm down and think, Professor Snape. Hermione's smart."

Sheathing his wand with a quick snap of his wrist, Severus stared at the boy. "What does my wife's intelligence have to do with anything?"

"She'll stay calm and focused, which is more than I can say for you."

Snape bristled with anger, ignoring the gathering audience around them. The two other Aurors had finally caught up to them. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Potter. These are circumstances beyond her control. What if she's hurt? Do you think she'll stay calm then? What if –"

"My whole life has been beyond my control," Harry snapped.

"What if she's dead?"

The question hung in the air, neither wizard wanting to contemplate the possibility.

"Listen." Harry's voice was thick with emotion. "You just can't barge in, asking questions. It might make matters worse."

"What do you propose we do, then?" His patience was wearing thin, but Potter's words made him pause. His actions had already caused her harm. He should have never agreed to marry Hermione. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. The stalker was supposed to come after him, not her.

"Harry." One of the Aurors behind Potter cleared his throat. "We have the warrant."

Holding out his hand, Harry took the parchment and unrolled it, his gaze rapidly scanning the words. "Thanks, Dickerson. If Hermione's here, we'll find her. We'll start questioning the people in the Janus Thickey Ward. Neville was visiting his parents there."

--

TBC

A/N -- Gilderoy Lockhart is the stalker. Doesn't make sense? Don't worry as more explanation will follow.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine –

Patience was a virtue he did not possess. Observing Potter question the Trainee Healer was growing tiresome. The wizard did not even know who Hermione was. He had replaced her. A few residents had even grown tired of the interrogation and had wandered off. Some were still irritable that their _utopia_ was being invaded. 

"Gordon, stop picking at it!" the Trainee Healer shouted at a man who had obviously taken too much Swelling Solution.

"Are you certain, Healer Robinson?" Harry asked, his inflection calm and calculated.

The wizard nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

Severus motioned toward Harry. "Do you know who he is?"

"Professor," Harry huffed in irritation. 

Robinson looked worriedly between Severus and Harry. "Yes," he answered. "He's Harry Potter."

"Do you know who I am?" Snape snapped, wishing for a bottle of Veritaserum. 

"Professor," Harry warned. "If you cannot remain quiet, I will have to ask you to leave."

"You're a professor," the young wizard guessed.

"I asked if you knew who I was, not what I was. How is it you know who he is, but you do not know who my wife is?"

"That does it!" Harry growled.

The blonde wizard jumped. "Should I know your wife?"

Motioning to the other Aurors, Harry scowled. "Escort Professor Snape to the Visitor's Tea Room."

--

Looking around the drafty attic for a possible avenue of escape, Hermione nodded in agreement at whatever the lunatic was saying. She was sitting on the bed and he was circling it like a vulture. She gasped when he stopped in front of her and knelt down.

"Then you do see!" Gilderoy shouted excitedly.

Recoiling as he touched her arm, Hermione closed her eyes and focused on remaining calm. "See what?"

"That we are meant to be together," her former patient muttered sullenly, realizing that his beloved had not been listening.

She could feel him pull away – emotionally and physically. A gnawing sense of panic scurried along her spine. She had to keep him occupied while she searched for a means of escape. He had magic and she didn't. 

Hermione cursed under her breath. If only she had listened to her parents and had taken those Muggle defense courses. Revulsion over what needed to be done curdled in her stomach.

Putting her hand over his, she did her best to portray a repentant lover. "Please forgive me, Gilderoy," she whispered shakily. Being a Gryffindor, she'd always worn her heart on her sleeve. Acting like she was in love and actually being in love were vastly different. Did she have the skill to persuade Lockhart? Wait a minute…

Being in love?

The phrase rattled in her brain like a passage from a book that begged to be memorized.

"I'm in love," she gasped.

"Yes," Gilderoy replied hopefully. "You remember, don't you."

She didn't feel his hand caressing her arm. Nor did she anticipate what came next.

"I'm in love with—" Hermione would have said Severus' name, but Gilderoy's lips were on hers, desperately pressing for entrance. 

--

"What is the meaning of this?" Healer-In-Charge Miriam Strout huffed, walking into the Janus Thickey Ward.

Harry rolled his eyes, his frustration over the constant interruptions mounting. First Snape! Then various residents! Now Miriam Strout! And he hadn't even finished interviewing Healer Robinson.

"I'm conducting an investigation, Healer Strout," Harry stated, "into the disappearance of Hermione Grang—er—Snape."

"Robinson," Strout snapped at her trainee, "go fetch Gilderoy. He's wandered off again."

The young wizard snapped to attention and accepted his mission wordlessly.

"Why are you looking for her here?" Miriam questioned resentfully. "She was sacked ages ago."

Listening to the matron's tone, Harry had a good idea of who had Hermione fired. "Madam Snape received several threatening letters. We have reason to believe she has been abducted."

The old witch blanched. "W-what makes you think you'll find her here?"

Agnes, a witch with a fur-covered face, barked excitedly. She had been observing Harry ever since he had arrived.

"Be quiet, Agnes!" Strout commanded.

Running to the nearest bed, Agnes jumped onto it and bounced up and down. "That dog! I can't believe he did it!"

"Shut it, you mangy mutt!" the Healer shouted.

"Who did it?" Harry focused on the fur-faced woman, trying to ignore the ranting and raving of Healer Strout.

"The most famous war hero," replied Agnes in a singsong tone. "Loves her, he does. Says he's going to marry her. Ask the matron in the portrait. She did all the spying." She pointed to the wall and Harry saw the figure in the portrait move quickly out of frame.

"Who?"

Realizing the truth would arrive soon, Miriam Strout wailed, "You mustn't hurt him! He's still not right. It's all her fault, anyway. We never should have shown him who he really was. Embarrassed him to no end."

"Who!" The question echoed through the ward, disturbing several of the residents, including Agnes. Harry's patience had worn thin.

"The fake celebrity," Agnes stage-whispered as she cowered beneath a blanket.

Harry glanced around the ward, noting very subtle changes to the ward since the last time he had visited it shortly before Sirius had died. Frank and Alice Longbottom were still in the ward, as was Agnes. There were a few additions to the long-term residents, and he couldn't help but notice the absence of one.

"Where is he?" asked Harry in such a serious tone that no one would deny answering the question. 

Miriam whimpered and backed away. "I don't know."

Wishing for a bottle of Truth Serum, Harry fingered his wand and resisted the urge to hex the hag in front of him. "Where is he?"

Seeing that the coast was clear, Agnes sat up in bed and wrapped her blanket around her like a shroud. "I know where he goes," she giggled.

"Where?"

Sobering, Agnes frowned. "I can't say. Took a wizard's oath, I did." 

--

Hermione shoved with all her might, trying to push Lockhart off. Yanking him by his hair, she moved to kick him. But he was too fast for her. She was trapped beneath him, feeling suffocated and scared. She gagged as he forced his tongue into her mouth. She bit down as hard as she could, ignoring the taste of blood and bitterness.

Rolling off her and onto the floor, Lockhart cursed. "You whore!" he raged, raising a hand to slap her. 

Hermione put her arms up to block him, but the pain never came. Looking up, almost afraid of what she would see, she gasped in surprise. Her stalker was holding an embroidered handkerchief up to his mouth and dabbing at it as though he had not even heard his own violent outburst.

"You must be hungry," he stated calmly. 

Hermione blinked worriedly. It was as though he were playing the perfect host, like he were two different people. Tears welled in her eyes as hysteria crept into reason.

He moved toward the door and she jumped off the bed.

"No!" she pleaded, hesitantly stepping toward him.

Gilderoy turned around, his wand drawn, his stance that of a classic wizarding duel. His gaze raked up and down her body and he scowled. "You also need a change of clothes."

Seeing the determined, crazed look in his eyes and fearing for Severus, Hermione lunged.

_"Incarcerous!"_

Thick ropes shot out of his wand and wrapped around her, effectively tripping her and causing her to fall. She kicked and twisted with all her strength, but the magical bindings would not ease. Hermione screamed and a gag appeared in front of her face and muffled her protests.

"I'm sorry, my love," the demented wizard apologized. "But I really must be going. I'm sorry I had to resort to such primitive tactics. I shall return."

Her horror grew as she watched Lockhart walk out of the room and ward the door behind him. She was helpless to do anything, but she kept struggling against her bindings.

--

Glaring at the two Aurors who had so graciously escorted him to the Tearoom, Severus demonstrated remarkable control. He made no snide comments and did not hex them. He waited for them to leave so he could start his own search for Hermione.

Just the thought of her name sent a dreadful shiver down his spine. What if they were too late? What if she were suffering? Potter's words did little to comfort him. Yes, his wife was intelligent. That was one of the attributes which drew him to her.

Swearing softly under his breath, he sipped his tea and continued staring at the young Aurors. He set his cup down. "As you can see, I am not going anywhere. I'm sure you could be of use elsewhere," he stated sarcastically.

One Auror turned to leave while the other eyed him skeptically.

Severus stared at the young wizard, his gaze unwavering, testing his keeper's resolve.

Seemingly satisfied that the Potions master would stay put, the Auror started to walk away.

Lifting his cup to his lips, Severus scanned the room, waiting for the Aurors to get far enough away so that he could begin his own investigation into Hermione's disappearance. It was late at night and there was hardly anyone in the Tearoom with exception of staff and a few patrons. One tall, blonde-haired wizard stood in the shadowy entrance and watched the Aurors leave.

Years of observing people tripped an alarm in Severus' subconscious. There was something about the way the wizard carried himself that made him uneasy. A disruptive noise from the hall broke his concentration and he forgot about the stranger. 

The two Aurors ran past the Tearoom, causing a mix of dreadful hope to rise.

"He's still in the Tearoom, Harry!" one shouted as he ran past.

As Severus jumped out of the chair, a breathless Potter ran up to him.

The few people in the room stared at the disruptive spectacle.

"I know who took her!" Harry panted as he held a hand to the stitch in his side.

Time seemed to slow and the wait seemed like an eternity to Severus as Harry gulped air before speaking again.

"It's Lockhart." Harry grimaced as he tried to catch his breath. "Gilderoy Lockhart."

Glass shattered and Severus felt the warm sting of a Stunner in the back. Falling forward, he was helpless to catch himself and he fell onto the table.

"You can't have her!" Severus heard from across the room.

Severus was pulled off the table and to the floor. The silent rage boiled into fury as he struggled to free himself from the hex. In all the pandemonium, he finally realized it was Potter who had pulled him out of harm's way.

_"Ennervate!"_ shouted Potter.

Surely, the young wizard would have helped Severus to his feet, but Potter was already running after Lockhart. 

--

Hermione shivered as a cold draft whistled through the rafters. Her tears had long since dried. She couldn't cry anymore anyway. Her wrists were raw from trying to free herself from the ropes. The ropes, just like her guilt, gnawed at her. If Severus were hurt, she would never forgive herself.

Refusing to surrender to exhaustion but closing her eyes anyway, Hermione's memories taunted her. All she had ever wanted to do was help people. Lockhart was no exception.

Remembering the expression of dismay and disappointment on his face as she showed him the clippings and books, she shuddered. He was so much like a child – a lost child who had found a home. Once he had accepted who he was, he had made great strides at remediation.

She had even taken him to Ollivanders to help him pick out a new wand as his had been lost. Hermione scoffed, slightly amused at the irony of the situation. She had no one to blame but herself.

--

Having managed to keep Potter in his sight, Severus was able to follow him into Lockhart's attic lair. A sense of calm washed over him as he climbed each flight of stairs.

Hermione was alive. He could feel it. He knew it to be true. He would dispose of Lockhart and collect his wife. He would wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

_Oh, Gods! What a maudlin sentiment!_

A door slammed open and shouting ensued.

"Let her go, Professor Lockhart!"

"He can't have her!"

Severus was unprepared for the sight that greeted him. Lockhart was standing against a wall, using Hermione as a human shield and pressing his wand to her temple. His wife's arms were tied behind her back and her mouth was gagged.

Her eyes widened when she saw him and she tried to mumble something through her gag.

"You shan't have her, Snape!" shouted Gilderoy as he tightened his hold on Hermione.

"All right, Hermione?" Potter asked softly.

She tried to answer the question, but wound up nodding her head up and down. She winced when Lockhart grabbed her by the chin.

"She's mine!" the lunatic ranted, pointing his wand toward Severus. "You poisoned her with one of your love potions!"

Severus put his hands up, knowing full well that he could take Gilderoy on. But he did not want to harm Hermione. 

"Calm down, Professor Lockhart," Harry said soothingly. "You don't want to hurt Hermione."

The crazy wizard seemed to have a moment of clarity and his grip on Hermione's chin loosened. "No, no," he mumbled, "I wouldn't want that."

Severus could see worry and pain as he stared into her moist brown eyes.

"Let Hermione go, Professor." Harry held out his hand, which panicked Lockhart, judging by the defensive shift in his posture. "You're hurting her."

Lowering his hands, Severus moved to unsheath his wand.

"I'm sorry, my love," sobbed Gilderoy as he kissed the side of her head. He flicked his wand toward Severus and started to cry. "Tell him to leave!"

Taking a step backward, Severus said nothing. Yes, he wanted to pin the fraud's hide to the wall for hurting Hermione, but Lockhart was too unpredictable. The irony of the situation did not escape him. She had married him to flush her stalker out.

"He's her friend." Harry tried to reason with the disturbed wizard, motioning for Snape to stay where he was. "Their marriage isn't real. Hermione wanted to find you."

Severus flinched. If he had to do it all over again, he would do things so much differently. Whereas his media problems were more an inconvenience, her problem was real. He had taken advantage of her – exploiting her lack of employment for his own gain. He would right those regrets as soon as this nightmare was over.

Desperately grabbing at slivers of logic, Lockhart started to mumble. "Yes. I remember you." He pointed to Harry. "You helped me defeat the Dark Lord."

Harry lowered his wand as a sign of good faith. "Yes, Professor Lockhart. It was an honor," he added, playing into Gilderoy's delusions. "I've lowered my wand. Why don't you lower yours. You're hurting Hermione."

Hermione winced as her abductor tightened his grip.

Eyeing Severus warily, Gilderoy yanked Hermione sideways. "No!" he answered gruffly. "He did it! He poisoned her – gave her a Love Potion! I have to kill him to free her."

Doing something he had never done before, Severus started to back away and placed his trust in another person. Seeing he was only exacerbating the situation, he knew Potter was the only chance Hermione had.

"I can't –" Lockhart huffed, turning red in the face. "I just can't do it, my love."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, trying to keep the crazy wizard talking.

"I can't free her," cried Gilderoy. "I can't kill him, yet. I don't know how!"

"You don't want to do that anyway," Harry countered. "Killing Snape will only guarantee you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Hermione would miss you."

Hermione squeaked and shook her head, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

His wand still pressing against Hermione's head, Lockhart glared at Snape. "I may not be able to kill you, but I can ease her suffering."

In all his years of spying for the Order and maneuvering his way through Death Eater ranks, Severus had never felt so helpless. Gilderoy Lockhart's intentions were clear.

He intended to harm Hermione.

A blur of hexes flew across the room, Severus and Harry aiming to disarm and stun the wizard, Lockhart's hex aiming to make Hermione forget -- _"Obliviate!"_

Both Severus and Potter watched in horror as abductor and hostage fell to the ground, Lockhart groaning and Hermione remaining eerily still.

--

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N – I'm still trying to ship my son to my beta readers as payment for their services, but the post office won't let me.

--

Chapter Ten –

"Will she be all right, doctor?"

"Will she remember who she is?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," a gentle voice replied. "I can't answer those questions until she wakes up. Add to that the nasty bump on her head, I can't even tell you when that will be."

Closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair, Severus sighed. It had been three days since they had followed Lockhart into the attic of St. Mungo's, the confrontation resulting in Hermione's injury.

Questions plagued him. Had he let her down? From his perspective, Severus had disarmed her kidnapper before he could complete the memory charm, but everything had happened so fast, he couldn't be sure. Not even Potter could recollect the order of events.

With Lockhart stunned, Hermione had fallen to the floor like a limp rag doll, hitting her head in the process. She had looked so pale, almost frail – as if she needed protection.

Guilt encroached upon his already tumultuous thoughts. In a way, his wife reminded him of Minerva and Albus. She had a stinging wit about her and the ability to trust anybody. It must be a Gryffindor trait, along with the need to always rush headfirst into situations that demanded careful scrutiny.

The bloody chit – running off with Lockhart like that! Even though she had thought Lockhart was Longbottom, the result had been the same. To spite him, she had run off.

Perhaps, if he'd gone about things differently…

"From what Auror Potter has told me," the Healer continued, "it is possible that your daughter will suffer no ill effects. Isn't that correct, Professor Snape?"

Looking at his wife, Severus sighed. "I cannot be certain. It happened so fast," he replied grimly. Had he disarmed Lockhart when he had the chance, Hermione would be safe.

He took little satisfaction in her abductor's sentence. Due to the extenuating circumstances and Gilderoy's connections, he had escaped Azkaban. Gilderoy Lockhart would soon be resting peacefully in the Janus Thickey Ward, blissfully ignorant as to his role in Hermione's injury. He was to be Obliviated and remanded into the custody of the new Healer-In-Charge of the Janus Thickey Ward.

"Either way, we shall not know until she wakes." The Healer walked off.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between Hermione's estranged husband and her parents.

"There is something the doctor isn't saying," Mrs. Granger stated, her dark intelligent eyes fixed on Severus.

"Yes," Severus agreed softly, looking away. "The Obliviate Charm is used to modify or erase a person's memory. In rare instances, it can be used to erase all memories."

"But Harry says he disarmed Lockhart before Lockhart cast the O-bliv-i-ate Charm," murmured Mr. Granger, stumbling over the magical term and stroking his daughter's hand absentmindedly.

Severus wished he had Potter's faith.

The Auror was adamant that Lockhart had been disarmed before he had cast the charm.

Perceiving his mother-in-law's scrutiny, he moved to the foot of the bed. He felt like an interloper.

"I couldn't help but notice the nature of your relationship with my daughter, Professor Snape," Hermione's mother said. "I read in the _Daily Prophet_ that you and Hermione had filed for a temporary marriage certificate…"

Her statement hung in the air, sending a jolt of trepidation through him. He had evoked ancient magic to make their bond eternal. By now the Ministry was aware of it, as well as the media. There could be no divorce. The magic was absolute, and in being so, was infallible. It could not be formed against one's will. It could not be forced through trickery. But a question dared to tickle his thoughts.

What had motivated him to bond with his wife? And why had she accepted him so willingly?

"It is my understanding that the interim nature of the contract is null and void?" Mrs. Granger's inflection was one of studious contemplation.

"Yes," answered Severus as he fussed with the edge of his wife's blanket.

"I see," his mother-in-law voiced neutrally.

He could hardly explain why he had chosen to bond with Hermione himself. How could he explain it to her mother?

"Do you love my daughter?"

"Yes." The answer seemed natural and just, almost as if a burden had been lifted. That being that, he knew his answer was the truth.

He loved her. It felt as though he always had.

"Good." Mrs. Granger moved round the bed and touched his sleeve. "I would hate to think that my son-in-law did not love my daughter."

A deep chasm loomed in front of Severus. He loved Hermione, but did Hermione love him? She desired him, her responses to his touch leaving no doubt in his mind as to their physical compatibility. Alien notions stirred within him.

Always a bitter, taciturn man, he had perfected distancing himself from society, going so far as to push away those who showed the least bit of interest in him. It was a skill that had come in handy as a spy. Only Albus really knew him.

His introspection was ended by a soft groan. Hermione's eyes opened slowly.

"Hermione, dear," her father called to her, coaxing her to look at him by patting her hand. "How are you?"

Smiling weakly, Hermione looked at her father. "Other than a roaring headache, I feel fine."

"What's the last thing you remember, dear?" her mother asked hopefully.

His wife closed her eyes groggily as if she were falling back to sleep. "Harry and Ginny's anniversary party," she answered, trying to stifle a yawn.

Her parents looked at one another, concern reflecting in their eyes.

"I think that's about five months ago," Mrs. Granger guessed.

Mr. Granger nodded his head in agreement. "Before the letters started."

"Mum? Dad?" Hermione was puzzled. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Watching the interplay, Severus stepped back. Whether the Fates were being generous or cruel, he had yet to decide. He had been invited to the anniversary dinner, undoubtedly through Molly Weasley's mechanizations. Of course, he hadn't gone.

His wife's memories did not include their brief yet passionate time together. She didn't remember his marriage proposal or their first time. He started to back away, retreating to contemplate his next move.

"What happened? Why am I in the hospital?" Hermione looked round, confusion marking the pure curves of her face.

Her gaze captured his and he froze in his retreat.

"Professor, what are you doing here?" Self-consciously, she pulled the sheet to her chin.

This complicated things greatly. Whereas he remembered the carnal nature of their relationship, she did not. Somehow he doubted she would be overly thrilled.

"You should get some rest, Hermione," Mrs. Granger suggested, smoothing some errant curls around her daughter's face.

Seemingly placated, his wife's eyes drifted closed and her breathing evened. Severus stared at her resting form guiltily.

"We need to talk." His mother-in-law smiled as she walked past Severus.

--

Staring at the ceiling, Hermione yawned. She felt like Rip Van Winkle. Not only had she forgotten the last five months of her life, but she had slept so much these last few days that she woke feeling tired.

She struggled to sit up, her atrophied muscles protesting any form of exercise. Flowers surrounded her bed, lending a sense of comfort. She had yet to even get out of bed to see who they were from.

A stack of letters sat innocently on the bedside table. Harry had brought them for her, trying to help her understand the events that had led up to her marriage to Snape. Harry had delivered all the letters, standing by her side patiently while she read them. She had run the gamut of emotions – anger, hatred, fear, and finally pity. When she got home, she would burn them.

Even more peculiar than the pile of letters detailing Lockhart's obsession was a letter from her _husband_. A rather harried-looking owl had delivered it early this morning.

He must have been drunk when he wrote the letter.

_My Dear Hermione,_

Just the salutation made her nervous.

_By now, you know why I was at your bedside yesterday. _

_We are married – a condition I regret to inform you is irreversible. Should you wish a divorce, I feel you should know that it is not possible. We are bonded together for all eternity._

What on earth had driven her to sign an eternal marriage contract with this man? More importantly, what had possessed him? Her answer for his motivation was later in the letter, but she scarcely believed it, and she had read the letter several times.

_I have only one compunction – the way the marriage was brought about. I exploited your situation and played upon your insecurities. For that, please accept my sincerest apologies. _

_You had been sacked from your position at St. Mungo's so I propositioned you – proposed actually. I thank the Fates you do not remember those words. You refused me._

Hermione sighed and continued rereading the letter.

_In your desire to force your unknown admirer's hand, you agreed to marry me. Since our union was under delicate scrutiny in the media we found it necessary to consummate the marriage._

Feeling the blush start in her chest and crawl up her neck, she fanned herself with the parchment. Her former professor had deflowered her and she had no memory of it. It was almost laughable. She unfolded the letter farther.

_It was then that our union evolved toward permanency. We were together for nine days. Although we intended for this to be a temporary situation, our…passion…overruled our reason. If I had known things would culminate in such a manner, I would have never presumed to evoke the Iugum amo Saeculorum. _

_Although I've no doubt as to my affections toward you, there may be some ambiguity as for your regard for me. Again, I must apologize. I should have secured your solicitude before influencing your future in such a manner. _

_A divorce is out of the question. If you do not wish to be with me, I will respect your wishes and do what is necessary to provide for your comfort. I have only this to ask of you…_

Hermione's eyes blurred with tears as she read his request.

_…the opportunity to court you properly._

Softly, she chewed the inside of her cheek and pondered what could have possibly made Severus Snape ask such a question. In her hand, she held the truth – a truth she didn't remember. She only hoped he was sincere – that this wasn't some twisted joke.

After graduation and the end of the war, Hermione had shifted her focus from surviving to making a future for herself. Through a bizarre twist of fate, that future now included her former Potions professor. They were irrevocably intertwined.

What had possessed her to ask him to marry her? Why did he agree? According to Witch Weekly, he had been one of the most eligible bachelors in Great Britain's wizarding world. Surely, he could have his pick of any witch he desired.

"Hello, dear," her mother's voice greeted her cheerily as she walked into the room.

"Hi, Mum," she replied, offering her cheek for a kiss. "Where's Dad?"

"He's at the office." She pulled away and started inspecting the various flowers around the room. "Dental emergency and all."

Hermione leaned back and closed her eyes. Her father was quiet compared to her mother. In a way, she wished her mother had taken the emergency and not her father.

"Oh, look," Mrs. Granger said. "Here's an arrangement from Ronald. Very nice. Impeccable taste."

Cracking an eye open and glancing at the flowers to appease her mother, Hermione sighed. "Yes, lovely." She closed her eyes and feigned sleep as her mother gushed over the various floral arrangements.

"Here's one from Professor Snape!" her mum stated excitedly.

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she looked at the rather large arrangement. There must have been at least two dozen long-stem red roses nestled in a crystal vase. They surrounded a single white rose, the contrast and meaning of the arrangement not escaping her. Red was for passion, the white rose for innocence.

"Would you like to read the card?" Her mother set the card on the table next to the bed. "I'll be right back."

Snatching the card, she took it out of its envelope.

_This is but a token. Yours, Severus._

Hers?

Hermione flipped it over, half-expecting there to be more. There was nothing. An all too familiar heat crept through her body. She couldn't help but wonder. If his words made her feel this way, how would his touch feel?

--

"Perhaps you should reconsider?" his image pleaded, scowling. "You've been pissed all weekend. You should stay here and rest. I'm sure her parents are perfectly capable of checking her out of St. Mungo's."

Adjusting the collar of his robe, Severus glared at his reflection. "No, I won't reconsider. You needn't remind me of this weekend. I do not need to rest. And yes, I'm sure her parents are perfectly capable. But she is my wife and I should be there."

"Do you really think she'll want you there?" the Mirror of Truth asked. "Didn't she say she would rather gnaw her arm off than be bonded to you?"

Inwardly, Severus flinched. The blasted mirror was telling the truth. She had said that. Swatting the lingering doubt away, he continued to groom himself. "She cares for me."

The mirror gave a derisive snort.

"She just doesn't remember it," he murmured, sitting down and putting his shoes on. "There is no way she could respond to me like that and not feel something."

His reflection started laughing. Between gasps of mirth, he slapped his thigh and spoke. "You should listen to yourself! You sound like a tawdry advice columnist. Or worse yet, a romance novelist!"

He ignored his mirror image, even though he felt the stab of derision and doubt. His first inclination had been to collect Hermione…kidnap her, really…and bring her back to Hogwarts where he would make mad, passionate love to her until she realized how happy she could be with him.

Then he started listening to Hermione's mother. She had planted a seed within him that had fermented so quickly he could not ignore it. So, he'd left St. Mungo's, grabbed a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky, and started drinking.

He had woken up in the Owlery, his hands bloody and bird shit on his robes. There was a vague memory of writing a letter and trying to retrieve it. Stupid birds. Mrs. Norris and Mr. Filch had found him. He even had a vague recollection of placing an order for flowers.

The irony did not escape him. Hermione had been Obliviated and couldn't remember, and he had gotten so pissed he didn't remember.

No matter how much he wanted, he could not kidnap his wife and force her affections. She'd suffered enough trauma.

For a Muggle, his mother-in-law was wise. At least, he hoped she was. She had given him insight into Hermione's psyche that he would have never guessed.

Whereas the wizarding community was very open about relationships and such, Hermione's notions were considered antiquated and outdated. No wonder his wife had been a virgin – that, and the fact that Weasley had issues.

Hermione was his now, and always would be if he had anything to do with it.

"Somehow, I don't think our wife will like the whole caveman attitude," his reflection interjected.

Severus glared at the mirror. "Be silent. Or I shall be forced to consign you to the pits of Hogwarts."

Not to be bullied, his reflection stuck its tongue out and made a rude gesture. "We live in the dungeon. There aren't any lower levels."

--

"Good news, Hermione," her mother declared excitedly. "You're to be released today."

Having managed to sit up in bed, Hermione grimaced. Yes, it was time for her to leave. If she stayed here much longer, she would turn into a useless pile of goo. But where was she going to go?

Grabbing a hairbrush, her mother went to work on Hermione's hair. "We mustn't have you looking like death warmed over when Severus arrives."

Her heart skipped a beat and she found it exceedingly difficult to catch her breath. She'd only ever read about Muggle panic attacks before. Was this what it felt like? "He's coming here?"

Her mother laughed. "Of course he is."

"Why?" She could feel her palms getting sweaty.

"He's your husband," her mother explained as if she were talking to a dumbfounded child. "He's coming to take you home."

"Where do I live?" blurted Hermione, praying for any answer other than Hogwarts.

Grinning, Mrs. Granger set the hairbrush on the table. "You live with your husband at Hogwarts. You accepted an apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey. We felt it best if you picked up where you left off."

Staring blankly at her mother, Hermione frowned. "We?"

"Yes, dear. We—Severus, me, and your father."

"And where was I during these discussions?"

"Resting," her mother replied unabashedly, ignoring Hermione's obvious displeasure and handing her some clothing.

Stewing, Hermione went through the motions of getting dressed. She couldn't believe this. They were treating her like a child. She expected it from her parents, but from Severus?

They had been together for nine days, according to his letter. What gave him the right to make decisions for her? Live with him? Was he insane? Was her mother?

There was no way this was going to work. Surely, there was a loophole somewhere. For her to be married to Snape was positively ludicrous.

--

TBC

A/N -- Now they have a semi-clean slate. There's eight more chapters to go. Gilderoy isn't finished yet. (Insert evil laugh here.) Thanks to all who have reviewed. It's greatly appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N – Excuse me while I wax sentimental about my betas. Wax on. Wax off. Thanks guys.

--

Chapter Eleven –

Opening the heavy oak door, Severus stepped aside and motioned for his bride to enter her new accommodations. He'd had her things moved, which to judge by her reaction, was a good thing. Ever since he had arrived at the hospital, Severus could tell something was wrong.

"I had your things moved from the dungeons," he informed her as he walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes to let the sunshine in. "Minerva would have been here to greet you, but she had business in Hogsmeade. Is something wrong?"

Standing next to the settee, she set her bag down. "Why were my things moved from the dungeon?" she asked softly, a look of irritated confusion flitting across her face.

Unable to contain the look of astonishment on his face, he smirked. "I thought you would be more comfortable here."

"And why would you think that?" she retorted crossly, folding her arms over her chest and tapping her foot in vexation.

Severus played along. "Under the circumstances, I felt it would be best."

"What circumstances?"

He knew that stance and tone – she was preparing for an argument, but in a purely Gryffindor sense, felt the need to pick a fight before it could begin. So, in his uniquely Slytherin way, he maneuvered his way around the potential, unfortunate scene.

"We are married," Severus explained patiently, running his fingertips along the back of the sofa. "We married under false pretenses. Those pretenses no longer exist. Since you were robbed of your memories, I felt it best to make other arrangements for you."

--

Feeling her annoyance and determination wither, she moved around the settee, sat down, and folded her hands in her lap. He was so reserved, almost cold. Yes, his letter wasn't a declaration of love, but it was a start – something that had given her hope. Now, it was as though he'd never written it.

Her independent streak had cost her dearly before. It had taken her ages to repair the rift that had come between her and Ginny. The man behind her, her _husband_, was trying to do what he thought was best. Perhaps she should cut him some slack and stop being so bitchy.

"I thought the Healer said not to make any changes – to make sure I was in familiar surroundings," Hermione stated as if she were delivering bad news. 

Severus gave a resigned sigh. "Well then, what would you like to do? Should you live with Minerva, you'll be…safe."

"Safe from what?" she questioned, being deliberately obtuse. In his sphere of influence, she felt intoxicated, almost euphoric. She felt the undeniable need to do unspeakable things to him – unspeakable things she had never done before. Or had she?

"Not what. Whom."

"Whom then?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Me," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone, which rattled her rancor further.

Closing her eyes, her overactive, sex-deprived imagination flashed a passionate vision before her and she blushed. In her daydream, she was pressed against him, her hands somewhere under his robes, and her lips upon the long column of his neck. His head was tossed back in abandon.

_Oh, Merlin! I've got to stop reading those silly romance books. The sensual tripe is unrealistic and hardly the basis for a relationship. _

He wasn't the one she should be worried about. Her own libido could overrule her good sense.

"I must have been safe with you at one point," stated Hermione.

"My desire for you borders on insanity," her husband replied, walking into the middle of the conversation pit that was formed by another sofa and two chairs. He sat down in one of the chairs and crossed his legs. Then he uncrossed them. It was as if he was not comfortable in his own skin.

"Our passion is the reason for this…" He waved his hand in the air as if he were trying to brush something away from him. "…nightmare."

Any romantic notions she may have had shriveled up and died. She was his personal nightmare. That was just great! He regretted everything. Oh, Gods! This was worse than Ron. She was inexplicably drawn to the man in front of her and he didn't want her.

"Yes, all right then," Hermione replied, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between them. She looked at the hands in her lap. They didn't even feel like her hands. She felt disconnected and numb. She was married to a man who didn't want her. The bitter sting of tears pricked the back of her eyes and she blinked furiously to stifle the flow before it started.

Plastering a smile on her face, she stood up and walked toward the bookshelf. "Have you any idea which room is mine?"

Severus jumped up and rushed down the small hall, opening a couple of doors. "I believe this one is yours," he called out.

"Thank you." Hermione followed the sound of his voice and stopped next to him. He was standing in the doorway. "I'm a little tired from the trip and would like to lie down."

"Of course." Moving to the side, Severus motioned for her to step into the room.

Turning sideways, she approached him and couldn't avoid brushing against him. His arm shot out and blocked her path. She could feel his breath against her cheek and a jolt of lust ran through her. She could see a reflection of light in his black eyes. He wasn't touching her, but their proximity was more intimate than any caress.

"Do not mistake my civility for indifference, Hermione," he murmured slowly as if he were choosing his words carefully. "I do want you."

Leaning against the doorframe, she could do nothing but stare at his lips.

Severus licked his lips and she held her breath – a breath she was having a difficult time catching. The press of his thin lips against her forehead was warm and gentle – words not easily associated with her former Potions' professor. 

Breaking the contact, Severus moved out of the doorway. "I promised your mother I would give you time," he whispered, a slight catch in his voice. "Floo me if you need anything. Dobby is also at your disposal."

Even though she was warm, she shivered. 

--

Clenching his fists as he stomped down the stairs, Severus caught himself when the staircase started to move. He should be nominated for Muggle sainthood. His restraint had been tested on levels he hadn't known he possessed.

He had promised Hermione's mother everything she had requested. Never having had a truly loving parent, he had been defenseless against his mother-in-law's charms. His wife was a blend of both her parents, but her eyes were definitely her mother's.

His mother-in-law had been firm, but not overly pushy in her demands. After all, she wanted what was best for her daughter.

At first, Severus felt it best for Hermione to return home with her parents. It was her mother who had pointed out that his wife would be more comfortable in the wizarding world. Even after explaining his role in the permanent bond, he had been astounded by his in-law's understanding.

In a moment of weakness, he had claimed her. He knew then what he wanted, and he wanted Hermione.

"Ah! There you are, Severus," the annoying, meddlesome voice of Dumbledore called from below him.

Schooling his features, Severus managed not to roll his eyes in frustration as he continued on his way down the stairs.

"How does Madam Snape find her accommodations?" Albus asked as he waited for Severus to join him at the bottom.

Once Severus reached the headmaster, he replied, "She is resting."

Albus scratched his beard thoughtfully. "And how did she take the news?"

_Nosy, busybody._ "She is tired," Severus retorted sharply. "I haven't had the time to discuss much with her in any great length."

Gathering his robes, Dumbledore walked alongside him. "She does know she is married, doesn't she?"

"Yes." His irritation grew. Now that he had Hermione, what was he going to do with her?

"Have you devised a plan?" Albus popped a piece of candy into his mouth and smacked his lips.

"Regarding what?" Severus could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise. 

A smile twitched at the corner of the headmaster's mouth. "Not what, my dear boy, but whom."

His employer's innate ability to dawdle over things was actually very vexing. "Who are you talking about?"

With a long-suffering sigh, Albus stared at the Potions master. "Your wife, of course. Have you figured out a plan to win her heart?"

"Don't be absurd," Severus scolded. "Why should I devise a plan?"

"Was it not your intention to woo her?" the older wizard asked, seemingly taken aback.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh my," Albus clucked. "This is most unfortunate, indeed. I thought you had finally found the happiness you deserved in life."

"Has it escaped your attention that I have not and am not looking for happiness?"

The infernal twinkle left the meddler's warm eyes. "Oh Merlin," Albus grumbled. "I wonder what she must be thinking."

Something told him that Albus' concern correlated directly with Hermione. "What did you do, Albus?"

"Well." Albus stopped walking and smacked his lips in contemplation. "I helped you write a letter and place an order for flowers."

It was the insult after the injury. The wizard before him was merciless.

Albus could not contain his smirk. "You were inebriated when you came to me. You wanted to write a letter to Hermione and needed my help to do so. Luckily, your condition led you to me. You were in no condition to write the letter. So, I wrote it for you."

Severus groaned.

"I even helped you place the order for flowers." Albus chuckled in remembrance.

"You bloody nuisance," growled Severus. 

Brushing off the insult, Dumbledore slapped the younger wizard on the back. "Don't worry, Severus. It wasn't an overly sentimental note. You simply asked permission to court your wife." 

Closing his eyes, Severus started to count to ten.

"Judging by what Mr. Filch found, I'm guessing that you tried to recover the letter. Have I misjudged your regard for Hermione, Severus? Was I wrong to encourage you in your endeavor to explain your feelings to her? If you do not love her, then why did you invoke such ancient magic?"

"I –"

"That was very irresponsible, Severus," chastised Albus. "Irresponsible and wrong. Did you not consider the consequences of your actions? Do you realize that you hold claim to her soul, and she yours?"

"We –"

"I, myself, do not subscribe to the notion of reincarnation," Dumbledore continued. "One life is difficult enough. Why complicate matters? What if Hermione does not return your affections? Why –"

"If you would be quiet long enough for me to explain, I would," Severus hissed in exasperation.

Dumbledore gaped at him and nodded for him to explain.

Severus paced in front of the headmaster, holding his hands behind his back. It looked as though he was a barrister, trying to plead a case. "You have not misjudged my regard for my wife. As for your hand in fostering sentimental tripe, I have no answer because I don't remember what I wrote.

"I…love my wife. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It just is." He cleared his throat and continued. "As for our bond…Yes, it was irresponsible of me. I can hardly explain my actions. It was as if something otherworldly compelled me to say the words. As for Hermione's feelings, I do not know. If she felt anything for me, it is lost to her and to me."

The older man contemplated Severus' words thoughtfully. "Then there is only one thing for you to do."

Severus looked down the hall, wanting so much to be done with this conversation. He despised sentimentality and, for some odd reason, he felt like his employer was going to start spouting romantic nonsense.

Oblivious to the fact that he had not responded, Dumbledore went on. "You must win her heart. Woo her. Make her fall in love with you."

Severus rolled his eyes in disgust. "I have no time for your inane schemes, Headmaster. I have classes to teach and duties to which I must attend. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Feeling Albus' stare on his back as he walked away, Severus cursed silently. He hadn't heard the last from the old man.

--

Lying on the bed, Hermione stared at the flowers on the windowsill and touched the letter under her pillow. Having felt disconnected ever since she'd woken up in the Hospital, she could scarcely believe recent events. She didn't know which was more difficult to accept – having had a stalker or being married to Severus Snape.

The entire situation was surreal. Well, it had been surreal until he had pressed his lips against her forehead. She'd never been so confused. She'd never felt so warm before. Is this what desire felt like?

_Gods, I need a life._ Harry and Ginny are married. Ron is dating, and she had immersed herself in her career. Well, she'd had her career. 

Now, she had a husband and a big gaping hole in her memory. Could things get any better, Hermione thought sarcastically as she wished for different things?

Her eyes drifted closed and the healing arms of Morpheus surrounded her.

--

Why did he feel the compulsion to strangle his employer, Severus wondered as he marked some essays. Yes, the old fool meant well. But Severus did not need his help.

His Gryffindor wife seemed lost – almost fragile. He needed to take things slowly. The last thing he needed was Albus mucking around in his affairs. Even though he wanted nothing less than to strip her naked and make her remember him, Severus knew he could not force her passion to the front. He would have to coax it from her.

Knowing what needed to be done, Severus cringed. He'd spent all his life pushing people away. How did he go about _wooing_ his wife?

"Professor Snape, Professor Snape!" a shrill voice with a Scottish brogue echoed through the dungeon halls. "Severus!"

Severus hurried across his classroom. The heavy door flew open as if it were a feather.

The deputy headmistress ran toward him, her normally severe appearance frayed beyond recognition. "You must come! Hurry!" she shouted.

"What is it?" insisted Severus, following her lead.

"Horrible news! Horrible news, indeed!" Minerva declared as she rushed along the dungeon corridor and up the stairs.

Severus scowled. Assuredly, one of his Slytherins had been caught doing something unmentionable. "What has happened?" Severus asked, rephrasing the question and hoping for a reply.

"He got away," she panted, climbing the stairs to Gryffindor tower. 

His mood changed to one of annoyance. Could the witch be any more vague? "Who got away?"

Reaching a landing, Minerva turned and held her side. Her face was bright red with exertion and her eyes held a quality Severus had rarely seen – fear. 

"Lockhart," the witch said, the name of Hogwarts' former DADA instructor rolling off her tongue with barely contained contempt.

--

Hushed voices woke her. One was concerned, one scared, and one angry.

"I don't see how it could have happened," the angry voice stated.

Hermione frowned. What was Severus angry about?

"Once I heard about his escape…" Hermione recognized the fearful voice as Minerva's. "…I hurried to the castle. From what the _Daily Prophet_ is reporting, Gilderoy escaped custody while they were waiting on the Obliviators to arrive."

Annoyance yielded to panic as the implications of the conversation she was eavesdropping on registered. She was afraid – not for herself, but for those around her.

"I should have Obliviated him, myself," Severus growled.

"The important thing is that Hermione is safe," Dumbledore said, his tone concerned. "We're aware of the situation. He can't get to her here."

She didn't know who to be more annoyed with – the trio of Hogwarts' staff or Gilderoy Lockhart. She would be damned if she were going to run and hide from anybody. It sounded as though Dumbledore intended for Hogwarts to become her prison.

"I'll have her things moved to the dungeons immediately," Severus replied. "The dungeon is more secure than Gryffindor tower."

_There he goes again! Making decisions for me when I'm not around!_

Pushing the door open, Hermione walked into the room. "I'm not going anywhere."

All eyes turned toward her.

"Don't be ridiculous," her husband chastised, his tone one that brokered no argument. "The dungeon is safer."

"Severus is right, Hermione," Minerva cautioned. 

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Hermione braced herself for the ensuing argument. "I won't run. I won't go into hiding. And I am not being ridiculous."

--

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

A/N – This story is brought to you by my two wonderful betas, Kathy Rose and Larilee. I don't own any of the characters, much less the universe. This chapter is actually two chapters combined...hence the unusual length.

Please be advised that the alerts aren't working. I update every day in the AM. 

--

Chapter Twelve –

He punched his pillow with a vengeance and tried to get comfortable on the settee – the one he'd hexed so long ago. The sun was sure to be spilling over the horizon soon, not that he could see it in his dungeon abode. The important thing was that Hermione slumbered in the next room.

After a three-on-one confrontation and subtle manipulations (he had a whole new insight into Minerva and Albus now), his wife had finally given up. She'd made only one demand – that he sleep elsewhere. Yes, he could have slept anywhere, but he needed to be near her in the event that Lockhart tried anything.

The door to his bedchamber crept open, a soft light spilling into the hall and sitting room. His wife whispered a soft curse as she stubbed her toe on something. Watching her silhouette move around furniture and past him, he sighed.

Hermione froze, seemingly waiting for him to fall into a deeper sleep. Her shadow took a hesitant step around the chair. "Just please stay asleep," she whispered pleadingly. 

Moving his hand under his pillow, Severus grabbed his wand. "_Lumos._ It's normally a good idea to not talk to the person you are trying to sneak past."

Severus didn't know what startled his wife more, the light from his wand or the fact that he was awake and talking to her. She stumbled at the chair, took a step backwards into the end table, and fell into his lap.

He would have laughed, but the press of her softness against certain anatomically deprived parts was too much to bear. Her loose hair caressed his chest. She struggled against him, murmuring apologies and trying to stand. One of her hands flattened against his chest in the attempt.

Flicking his wand at an oil lamp, he ignited the wick and illuminated more of the scene. His wife was dressed in Muggle jeans, a black jumper and a pair of trainers. A heavy bag hung from her shoulder – a bag that looked as though it carried a great deal of things.

"I am so sorry," she stammered as her wide amber eyes lingered on his chest. "I w-was going for a walk and –"

"At four-thirty in the morning?" Severus questioned, looking at the clock on the mantle. "And with such a heavy bag?"

Hermione renewed her struggles to dislodge herself from his embrace. Her twisting and turning only encouraged his resolve.

"Let me go," she demanded weakly with no conviction.

If Severus didn't know better, he would think she wanted to be caught. "Are you going to answer my question?" he murmured, inhaling the enticing scent of her hair.

"I'm leaving," Hermione declared.

His grasp around her waist tightened.

"Don't you see?" She stopped struggling. "If I stay, everyone's in danger. I need to leave."

Pressing his lips against her temple, Severus sighed. "You thought that was the answer the last time, Hermione. In fact, we were married for a little over a day before you realized that you had put me in danger. At which point you demanded an annulment. Luckily, we had already consummated the marriage."

--

His lips moved from her temple to her cheek, and she just couldn't resist the lure and turned her head. "I think –"

"Stop thinking and feel," Severus whispered huskily before settling his questing lips over hers.

A current of energy flew between them, causing Hermione to gasp. Her husband took full advantage of her gasp, plundering her mouth and tugging on that deep ache just below her navel. His tongue swept from side to side, seducing hers.

Feeling his erection bobbing against her bum as he shifted her in his lap, Hermione wrapped one arm around his back. The sensual nature of the kiss called to the needy throb and she moaned.

She could tell he was reluctant to break the kiss, but he did so slowly. Trailing his thin, surprisingly soft lips from one corner of her mouth to another, he sighed and bowed his head. Some of his hair fell forward, masking his expression.

She could feel her breasts tingle and the ache in her belly twitch. This was the kind of kiss that one could spend their whole life comparing others to. One thing was for certain. Her former Potions professor knew how to snog.

Some impulse guided her hand, the one that wasn't wrapped around his back, to touch his oily hair. She wanted to look at him. Surely this was some bizarre game he was playing with her. Tucking the displaced hair behind his ear, she explored the texture of his cheek.

As if he were starving for human contact, he nuzzled and licked her palm. Then he did something that she would never forget – he cleared his throat and moved her off his lap.

Confused and frustrated, she stared at him.

Severus sighed, but did not look at her. "If we didn't stop there, I would have you."

His meaning was perfectly clear and validated the storm brewing within her. Her curiosity got the better of her. "Has it always been like that between us?"

Severus chuckled and adjusted the duvet around his hips. "Yes and no."

Inwardly, Hermione growled. What kind of answer was that?

"We were primarily antagonistic toward one another," he explained solemnly. "I would like to say that our first time was…good for you. However, it was not. In my defense, I was led to believe that you were experienced."

Hermione blushed.

"Other times were much more enjoyable," her husband teased with a smirk. "I can put the memories in a Pensieve if you wish to view them."

The blush in her cheeks felt like a slow-burning fire and she averted her gaze. "It's not nice to tease," she murmured self-consciously.

A warm hand encompassed hers and she felt her breath hitch in her chest.

"I am not teasing you."

Hermione studied her hands which were entwined with his.

"You still doubt my desire for you." Lifting one of her hands to his face, Severus nipped the soft pad of her palm.

She was unable to contain the strangled groan that escaped any more than she could stop the rampant thoughts of lustful deeds that he had inspired.

"I am not Mr. Weasley," he said, his voice thick with lust. "I want you more than you can possibly comprehend."

"Oh," was all she managed to say. Shifting on the uncomfortable sofa, she grimaced. "This couch is so uncomfortable."

"Perhaps you should go back to bed," Severus suggested.

Smiling hesitantly because she still had every intention of leaving, Hermione looked Severus in the eye. "I have a better idea. Why don't you go to bed? I'll stay here and amuse myself."

--

He could sense her deceit and didn't know whether to be amused or insulted that his wife thought he would actually fall for such a tactic. Gryffindors were not known for their subtlety. She had every intention of bolting as soon as his back was turned.

"I have an even better idea," he countered. "We both go to bed and forget about this nonsense of running away."

"What –"

He placed a fingertip upon her lips to silence her protest.

"Minus your snoring, we managed to sleep together quite well," Severus said with as straight a face as he could muster. His wife didn't actually snore, but she did tend to mumble in her sleep. "We can both get some much needed rest."

"I don't snore," she huffed indignantly. "And I promise not to go anywhere."

"You'll have to do better than that, Hermione." Severus wrapped the duvet around his waist and stood up. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at her. "Would you take a wizard's oath to insure that promise?"

"I, um…What exactly does a wizard's oath entail?" she asked hesitantly.

Severus grinned. "Trust and compromise."

Tapping her wand to his, Hermione smiled. "Very well, Severus. I promise not to leave."

His little minx of a wife wasn't going to get away with such a vague promise. "I'm afraid it isn't quite that easy," he practically purred. "In order for an oath to be magically sealed, each party must be willing to give something up should they fail to keep their end of the bargain. Since this is a strictly one-sided oath…" He let her draw her own conclusions, hoping she would take the bait he'd so skillfully set.

With a resigned sigh, his wife gracefully conceded defeat. "What do you want from me if I break my promise?"

"First of all," Severus goaded, "your 'promise' is too vague. I would like it to be more specific." He waved his wand around for emphasis as if he were searching for the right words.

"You should promise not to leave Hogwarts without a proper chaperone, such as myself, Minerva, or Albus until this situation with Lockhart is resolved. **Or** you should promise not to leave Hogwarts at all until the situation with Lockhart is resolved."

"Why do I feel like I need legal advice?" Hermione questioned, one of her eyebrows quirking in disbelief.

"If you like, I could get a barrister for you." Severus lowered his wand and walked toward the fireplace.

"No," she growled belligerently, but soon composed herself. "I think we can come to an arrangement. I'll take the first suggestion. Before I take the oath, I need to know what you want in return -- not that I'm going to break the promise or anything."

"You." 

Hermione flinched.

Severus damned himself as soon as the one-syllable word slipped past his lips.

"The opportunity…" he struggled for the words. "…To get to know you better. You must promise not to leave Hogwarts at any time without the proper chaperone, at least not until Lockhart is apprehended. If you do not keep your promise, then I will be able to locate you with ease and you will have no choice but to do as I wish."

--

Pacing back and forth like an expectant father, Hermione wrung her hands together. Her _husband_ was having a lie-in this morning.

"Damn, why did I take that oath? I'm a grown woman. I should have made Severus understand. I should have stunned him and walked away," she whispered to herself, mindful of the library rules.

"I need to find a way to break the oath in a truthful manner so that he cannot find me," she mumbled, trying to reason her way through her predicament. What's the point of running if he can find me?

"_Why are you running?_" her inner turmoil questioned her flawed reasoning. "_Something tells me you tried running before. If you did, it obviously didn't work._

Sighing, she sat at the nearest table and drummed her nails on the polished surface. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was the little voice in her head that reminded her she was infallible. Hermione hated being wrong. It didn't happen very often and it was something she'd never gotten used to.

"Look at me," she grumbled, burying her hands in her face. "I've gone mental – absolutely stark raving mad."

"_I'll say,_" another inner voice chimed in. "_Why did you marry Snape in the first place?_

Hermione's head shot up and she looked around the room. Just how many voices did she have in her head? Perhaps she should name them. The first one can be the voice of reason and the second one can be the voice of doubt.

"_Well, you did hit your head,"_ reason reminded her.

"_Why are you running away?_" doubt asked.

If her voice of reason had eyes it would have rolled them. "_I think it has something to do with our noble sense of Gryffindor self-sacrifice. She thinks she'll be protecting everyone she loves if she goes into hiding._"

"_Is she really running away to protect everybody or is she running away from Severus?_" the voice of doubt questioned.

"_Brilliant observations!_" the voice of reason responded smartly.

"I am not running away from Snape," she hissed.

"Did you say something Madam Snape?" a hesitant voice whispered.

Hermione jumped and almost fell out of her seat as she tried to see who was behind her.

"I'm sorry, Madam Snape," William, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Hermione smiled as she stood up. "That's all right. I was just trying to work through a problem. I tend to…talk to myself when I do that."

"Me too," the student responded brightly.

The boy blushed. "I'm sorry," he said as he held out his hand. "I'm William. You probably don't remember me, but you helped me and my girlfriend before…"

"You can say it," coaxed Hermione, taking his hand in hers and shaking it. "Before I was Obliviated."

Exhaling, William shook the Healer's hand enthusiastically. "I kind of figured you wouldn't remember me."

Sitting down at the table, Hermione motioned for him to have a seat. "Would you like to sit down?"

"No thanks, Madam Snape," William said. "I have to get going. Allison's waiting on me."

Watching the young student leave, Hermione felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. Life was so much simpler when she was a student here. She only had to worry about Harry and Ron, and getting them through exams – that and the impending war with Voldemort.

Thinking of Harry, an idea tickled the back of her mind and she perked up. Harry's mother had cast the Fidelius Charm to hide from Voldemort. Why couldn't she do the same and hide from Lockhart?

"_There she goes again,"_ reason railed. "_And just who would you get to be your Secret Keeper? Do you honestly think Lockhart is going to leave everyone you've ever loved alone just because you're 'gone?'" _

"Who said anything about hiding," Hermione murmured softly as she started to formulate a plan. "Perhaps it's time Gilderoy knew what it felt like to be hunted."

--

Three days had elapsed since his wife had taken the wizard's oath. Tonight, Hermione sat quietly on the settee – the one from which he'd removed the hex off. Even without the curse, the couch was uncomfortable. He should know. He had been trying to sleep on the blasted thing for the last few nights.

It was a small sacrifice to ensure her safety.

Covertly, he observed his wife, who was sitting with one of her legs tucked underneath her. She was reading a thick book on magical medicine, her expression intent as she twirled a strand of her hair. Occasionally, she would stop and nibble on one of her nails.

Looking down at the essay he was grading, Severus pushed it away. Grading first-year essays was worse than the Cruciatus Curse. A smidgen of guilt impeded his thoughts. Hermione was so young. Reflexively, he stomped it down. He had done the right thing. He was content with the bond. She could learn to accept it. Perhaps, in time, she could even love him.

Albus' words had haunted him. Their souls were irrevocably intertwined for all time.

Severus couldn't even remember where he'd heard the incantation of ancient magic. He must have read it somewhere. Did it really matter? Either way, the old magic had worked. Hermione was his.

But how did he show her without alienating her? His normal approach of coercion would not do. His previous relationships had consisted of sex. In fact, he had a difficult time remembering ever having an encounter where the exchange of Galleons hadn't been involved.

"What?" The one-word question broke his reverie.

"What?" he answered hastily.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "You're the one staring at me. Do I have something in my hair, on my face…?"

"My apologies, Hermione." Bowing his head, Severus made like he was marking the essays. "It was not my intention to disturb you."

Closing her book and shoving it into her bag, Hermione exhaled. "I'm sorry, Severus. I'm sorry for snapping at you and taking up your space. I'll go finish reading in the bedroom."

Standing, Hermione started to stretch the kinks out of her neck and back.

He gazed upon the supple arch of her back. Her actions showcased the generous curve of her breasts and bum, enflaming him. Severus shot up, knocking his chair backwards. He walked round his desk and stopped in front of his wife. The yearning to have her had to be controlled.

He'd been a spy most of his life, for Merlin's sake! Surely he could control his desire for this witch.

Hermione was startled by his proximity and stepped back, knocking her bag over. The book she had been reading fell out and Severus swooped down and retrieved it, puzzling over the title. He could have sworn she'd been reading a book on magical medicine, but this was a charms book. 

Her dark brown eyes went wide and she snatched the book from his hand. "Thank you," she muttered.

His wife looked nervous and uneasy. What else could he expect? He'd terrorized her for seven years and ignored her for five. He'd never given her any reason to trust him. An impulse took hold of him and he amazed even himself with what he said next.

"I was feeling a bit peckish. Would you care to accompany me to the kitchens for a late night snack?"

--

Hermione didn't know what she had expected as she looked down at the book in her hands, but an invitation to raid the kitchens wasn't it. "Yes," she replied, before she could analyze the situation.

Her husband held his arm out and she motioned for him to wait. "I just need to put my things away."

"Very well," he replied. "I'll wait."

Picking up her bag, she shoved the book in and walked into the bedroom. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. If Severus had looked any closer, her plan would have gone up in smoke. She had started reading about the Fidelius Charm. She had charmed the book to look like a medical journal in the event that anybody examines it too closely. Not only was the Fidelius Charm very complicated, but it was near impossible.

But it needed to be done.

Even though her memory of being stalked was fairly recent, she was sick of it. She was going to turn the table on Gilderoy Lockhart. She was going to stalk him. Once she found him, she was going to smack him around for a bit, then Obliviate him. In order to do that, she needed to vanish. It was going to take some time to get things ready to cast the charm, but it would be worth it once she got a hold of the lunatic.

Plastering what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face, she opened the door.

--

With immense pleasure, Severus watched his wife indulge her sweet tooth. It was quite refreshing to see her relish the chocolate concoction. Since Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, her appetite had waned, which was a shame. He enjoyed her voluptuous shape.

"You could have gone into any field. Why did you choose Medicine?" he asked, toying with his dessert. Severus found himself unable to take his eyes off her as her tongue darted across her bottom lip, catching a stray piece of confection.

She stared at him, contemplating his question. "My answer may seem trite, but I've only ever wanted to help."

The irony did not escape him. If only he could have spared her the suffering of war. "No," he disagreed, unwilling to slip into remembrance of the many lessons he had learned. "Your answer is not trite. It is very…Gryffindor of you."

"Then you probably think it silly of me." She cleared her throat and dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth. 

Shoving his dish away, Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to solicit an argument with me."

"And why, my dear Professor, would I choose to do that?" she questioned, a somewhat challenging tone in her voice.

The endearment twisted something inside him. This is one of the few moments in his life where he felt hopeful. Standing, Severus walked around the table and stood behind her. "To get me to kiss you, of course," he whispered, leaning down and brushing the hair from her nape.

--

Her husband was so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. His masculine scent enticed her libido to play along. She had never known a man's touch. (Well, she had. She just didn't remember it.) It was a slow burn, one that the turned her sugar-laden stomach into knots.

This was so unfair. Her tenuous grasp on reality cracked and she leaned into his touch. "I d-don't think that's the re-reason."

"My memories of our brief time together haunt me, Hermione." She could hear restrained lust quiver in his voice. This did not bode well. If he was feeling what she was feeling, no wonder they were married. Pornographic images danced through her thoughts and she found herself unable to reply. 

Hermione moaned. The last thing she needed was to start shagging him. If that happened, she would never leave.

"Would you like me to kiss you, Hermione?" Severus asked before pressing his lips against the delicate shell of her ear.

"Yes." The traitorous answer escaped past her lips, lips that were poised to receive her husband's kiss.

A loud crash ruined the moment. Hermione sprang from her seat and unsheathed her wand, pointing it toward the noise and shoving her husband behind her. Shadows danced around the room, making it difficult to see. "_Lumos!_"

"Hermione," Severus said.

"Show yourself!" Hermione demanded.

A hiccuping noise came from the corner of the room.

"Hermione." Severus grabbed her wrist. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I think I can hold my own against a drunk house-elf."

Winky staggered into the light and fell flat on her face.

Lowering her wand, Hermione blinked.

--

Severus could feel her trembling. He didn't need Legilimens to tell she was terrified. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her in his arms. "It's only a house-elf," he whispered, stroking her hair and trying to calm her. 

She continued to shiver and he shushed her. It wasn't until she snorted that he realized she was laughing. She pulled away and he felt the loss of her warmth keenly. Animated, smiling eyes stared into his. Her smile wavered and her gaze lingered on his mouth. 

Smirking, Severus leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. When he drew back, he could see latent desire in her stare. Even though he wanted nothing more than to take advantage of her conflicted emotions, he wouldn't.

He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should call it a night."

A look of disappointment crossed her features and he almost felt guilty.

What happened next took him totally by surprise. His wife grabbed hold of his robes and pulled as hard as she could. He lost his balance and leaned forward. Eager lips pressed against his.

Damning his noble motives, Severus tried to ease Hermione aside. But his wife would have none of that as she held on to him, thrusting her body into his. It was fortunate that he had regained his balance; otherwise, they would have landed on the floor. Her eyes were scrunched closed, the furrow of her brow a familiar one. It was the crease that formed when she was concentrating too hard.

Her tongue hesitated against his lips and he eagerly opened for her. Her exploration was desperate and needy and he was puzzled as to the reason why. Holding her with one arm, he reached for his wand with the other and broke the kiss. "Open your eyes," he instructed.

Various hues of brown blended together in her eyes. They were bottomless pools of curious lust, and had the power of a siren's call. Grasping his wand, he pulled her closer and whispered the incantation that would enable him to know more. "_Legilimens._"

Her panic was overwhelming. Winky must have frightened her more than she would admit to. The panic mixed with lust, and Severus was able to discern her true motivation for the kiss.

She was scared.

He couldn't take advantage of that. He needed to reassure her. Before he could set his plan in motion, she kissed him again. This time it was a timid, unsure kiss. She was seeking permission, almost begging for it.

The house-elf snored, reminding him they were not alone.

He was reluctant to end the kiss and discourage her sexual advances. Her confidence was fragile. Clasping her hands in his, Severus pried her fingers from the material of his robe and stopped the kiss.

Seeing hurt and confusion in her eyes, he kissed her knuckles.

"I don't understand," she whispered shakily.

Severus exhaled slowly, calling upon reserves of strength he didn't know he possessed. "If we don't stop now, we risk discovery."

"I see," Hermione replied, her voice laced with disappointment.

His virgin bride was full of surprises. The prospect of being discovered turned some women on. Apparently, his wife was one of them.

"Hermione," he whispered her name as though he were saying a prayer. "If we don't stop now, I'll spread you on the table and have you as a late night snack."

Her cheeks flushed a bright red and he knew she understood his meaning. 

--

Leaning against the bedroom door, Hermione closed her eyes. What had possessed her to kiss Severus? And why did her entire body ache?

Lamps lit themselves as she walked through the room. She stopped in front of the large ornamental mirror to see if her cheeks were as bright as they felt. She studied her reflection. Red cheeks, swollen lips, wild hair…Yes, it was her alright. She looked like a demented Santa Claus.

"You really are too severe on yourself," her reflection chastised unhappily as it studied her.

Hermione gave a startled gasp and jumped back. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were enchanted," she muttered and backed away. She didn't particularly care for mirrors.

"I'm more cursed than enchanted really," the mirror sighed.

Always one to enjoy a good mystery, Hermione sat down. "How so?"

"Your husband curses me every chance he gets," the reflection delivered the punch line with a wide smile. "I'm sorry, but you walked right into that one."

"Why does he curse you?" Hermione leaned forward, very interested in any insight about Severus.

Her reflection walked across the room and sat on the bed, assuming a similar pose as its mistress. "He doesn't like the truth."

"What truth?"

Grinning wildly, her doppelganger stared at her. There was almost a mad, maniacal gleam in her eye. "He is madly and hopelessly in love with you. He desires you above all others. I must say that he has behaved very well the last few days – no scheming, no coercion."

"How would you know?" Hermione stared at the mirror expectantly.

"I remember all truths," her reflection said as it took to studying Hermione again.

Feeling as though she were being scrutinized, Hermione averted her gaze.

Her doppelganger shook its head in disapproval. "Your plan is foolhardy. You may mean well, but in the end you'll only hurt the ones you're trying to protect."

She wasn't even going to deny it. "So you're a fortune teller, too?" Hermione sneered.

"No," her reflection replied. "I am you."

"I've had enough of this," she huffed, getting off the bed and pulling the duvets back. She shrugged out of her robe and got into bed. Waving her wand, she extinguished the lights.

"The truth is difficult to face sometimes." 

--

Nightmares and daydreams had a way of blending together. To say the least, Hermione hadn't slept well at all last night. Scenes of unadulterated lust filtered through her dreams, making for a restless night and an exhausted day.

Hermione was finding it difficult to concentrate, which made her task of inventorying medicinal potions tedious. The overwhelming urge to yawn passed over her and she was unable to resist. She did her best to stifle the yawn, but it still escaped.

"Did you not sleep well last night?"

Severus' voice startled her and Hermione dropped a Blood Replenishing Potion – the bottle containing it shattering against the hard stone floor.

"Here, let me get that," he said, waving his wand over the pool of spilt potion. "_Evanesco_."

Warily, she watched him as she waited for the password. To prevent further Polyjuice tactics from being used, a password system had been devised. The system was Professor Flitwick's idea. Being such, it was a little on the ridiculous side. She was having a difficult time keeping up with everybody's password, even her own.

"Password?" she asked.

"Christmas," he replied with a nervous grin. "Yours?"

"Pumpkin juice," Hermione said with a sense of relief. "Can I help you with something?"

Her husband regarded her for a moment before he responded. "Would you do me the honor of being my escort tonight?"

Her husband was full of surprises. "Of course," she responded automatically. "I'd love to."

Formal to the point of being annoying, Severus bowed. "Very well. I'll pick you up at seven."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a secret," Severus whispered conspiratorially.

--

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen –

"Bloody hell!" Severus growled as he paced back and forth between the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the Room of Requirement. The damn room was not cooperating. Every time he opened the door, he was faced with the same scene – a bedroom!

"I don't need a bedroom," he grumbled, glaring at the fluffy pillows and sinfully inviting bed. "I have a bedroom. I need a setting conducive to dining."

Yes, Severus wanted to seduce his wife tonight and every night after that. After all, he was only flesh and blood. He had needs. So, in essence, the Room of Requirement was providing him with what he needed.

Opening the door, he held his breath.

"Please be something other than a bedroom," he pleaded, peering into the uncooperative room. It was better. Instead of the nauseating Cupids and arrows, there was a low Japanese-style table, surrounded by cushions. Severus had a feeling this was as close as he was going to get to a dinner arrangement. 

He really did want to take his wife somewhere nice, but it just wasn't possible. The threat was too great. Lockhart was still on the loose, undoubtedly plotting ways to capture Hermione again. For now, dinner in the Room of Requirement would have to do. At least it wasn't dinner in the Great Hall.

--

Hermione pulled her pink jumper over her head and grimaced. This was only the fourth change of clothes since she'd gotten out of the shower. Nervous excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach as she wondered where they were going. Hogwarts was great, but she didn't care for it as a jail.

"The pink jumper looks nice," her reflection stated hopefully.

"That's what you said about the last three," Hermione groused.

"Well, pardon me for telling the truth," the mirror retorted sharply.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. This would have to do. "There's no need to be bitchy about it," she argued.

Her reflection pouted. "I still can't believe you are considering that harebrained scheme. Your husband survived Voldemort. Surely, he can survive Gilderoy Lockhart."

A sense of déjà vu struck Hermione as she stared at her reflection. A soft knock on the door broke her concentration. A muffled, "Hermione?" followed. 

"Coming," she answered, fixing her gaze on the mirror. "No matter what, I will not give in to the temptation to shag my husband senseless," she mumbled under her breath.

Her doppelganger sneered knowingly.

--

She opened the door and walked out of their bedroom. "I hope this is okay," she said, motioning to her outfit.

His wife was wearing a pink jumper, jeans, and trainers. The jeans were tight, yet not suggestive, hugging the curves of her hips and arse. Her jumper hung loosely on her frame, but clung to her curves just enough to accent her breasts and waist. Her hair was pulled back, tendrils of it escaping and framing her face.

"I didn't know where we were going," Hermione stammered. "Shall I go change?"

"No." Severus cleared his throat and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Smiling, she took his arm. "Before I go anywhere with you, I need the password, please."

Brushing his lips across her cheek, he could feel her shiver and smiled. "Chocolate Frogs," he supplied with ease.

They walked to the Floo and Severus grabbed a handful of powder, handing some to Hermione. "Want to know where we are going?"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes hopeful.

Taking her hand in his, he kissed it. "I've arranged for dinner in the Room of Requirement."

Her hopeful gaze wavered and he could tell she was disappointed. He couldn't blame her. There had been times when he had been cooped up at Hogwarts, unable to leave. "We'll go into Hogsmeade this weekend, okay?"

"Promise?" she quizzed him.

"Yes," replied Severus as he motioned for her to go before him. "Shall we?"

--

She didn't know what to expect when she stepped into the room and around a decorative screen. A soft light filled the room, highlighting the low table and cushions. Screens and paper lanterns surrounded the table, lending to the illusion of intimacy. On the table was a selection of various oriental foods. The potential for having her wicked way with her husband was right before her. Minus the table, the cushions looked like the perfect place for seduction. Hermione shook the thought from her head, trying to ignore the dull ache that presented itself whenever her husband was around. 

--

Stepping out of fireplace, Severus grinned. Hermione looked nervous. Truth be told, so was he. He had never been on an actual date before.

"It's lovely," she said softly.

Taking his robe off and hanging it on a peg, Severus chuckled as Hermione averted her gaze. He had on trousers and a white shirt. "You can look now." His virginal wife had no memories of their passion, and he looked forward to showing her soon.

Realizing her mistake, she laughed nervously. "I'm sorry. I thought…I thought… Well, you don't want to know what I thought."

"You thought I was naked beneath my robe," he said, unable to resist teasing his young wife. "Contrary to popular belief, most wizards do wear clothes under their robes. Older wizards tend to opt for the less traditional. In fact, Albus –"

"Stop!" Hermione covered her ears. "That is not an image I need rambling around in my brain."

"I see your point," replied Severus, guiding her to the table. She sat on a cushion and folded her legs beneath her and to the side. Instead of sitting across the table, he sat next to her.

Picking up the bottle, Severus poured a generous amount of saki into her cup. "I hope you find the setting and meal pleasing. The 'Room' was somewhat temperamental."

"How so?" Hermione asked into her cup before she took a sip.

"I was not satisfied with the settings that kept appearing."

"That's strange," she murmured, setting her cup down. "We never had any problems with it. That is until Umbridge caught wind of our 'unauthorized meetings.'"

Pouring saki into his cup, Severus smirked. "Ah yes. I seem to recall the Headmaster mentioning your 'brilliant' strategy in the Forbidden Forrest."

She looked down guiltily. "I wouldn't call it brilliant. It was more luck than anything else."

Her modesty was endearing. "You should take credit where credit is due, Hermione. You're very intelligent."

"Thank you," she mumbled nervously, unconsciously taking a stand of errant hair and twisting it round her finger.

He watched her worry her bottom lip with her teeth. He would taste those lips tonight. He reached for his cup, but stopped. He did not want to be impaired in any way. Taking one dish, he offered it to her. "Would you like some tempura?"

His young witch had been taking another sip of saki and coughed as she tried to answer. "Ye-yes, please," she sputtered.

Severus dished two pieces of deep-fried vegetables onto her plate and she waved her hand over her dish. "That's enough, thank you."

--

Hermione watched Severus place several pieces of tempura on his dish and wondered where he was going to put it all. He served generous portions of a meat dish and a noodle dish onto her plate and his. An unnerving silence settled between them. She gobbled the two pieces of tempura so fast that she hardly tasted them.

He was playing the part of host perfectly, which unnerved her. Toying with her food and becoming envious, she observed him eat. He was so thin. If she ate half of what he'd eaten already, she'd have to wear her "fat" jeans for a month while she worked off the extra weight.

"I can hear you thinking," stated Severus as he rested his chopsticks on his plate and fixed her with a stare.

Looking at her food, Hermione attempted to pick a piece of meat up with her chopsticks, but was unsuccessful. Obeying the law of gravity, the meat splattered on her plate, causing a stream of thick brown gravy to land on her sweater.

"Allow me." Unsheathing his wand, Severus pointed it at the gravy. "_Evanesco._"

Hermione touched her jumper, relieved he hadn't vanished it. That would have been truly embarrassing. As if reading her mind, the corner of her husband's mouth lifted.

"Do give me some credit, Hermione," he murmured softly. "If I were trying to rid you of your jumper, you would know it."

She laughed nervously and tried to collect some food with her chopsticks again. Her husband, on the other hand, had no difficulty picking the food up. He gathered a bite-sized piece of steak and offered it to her.

Hermione didn't move. This was mortifying. Her eyes widened as he pressed the morsel to her lips. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and accepted it. The act, considered unhygienic by some, was sensual and seductive.

Somehow, she knew. All Severus Snape had to do was crook his little finger and she would grant him any request. Chewing the delicacy, she swallowed, only to find more offered to her. "Oh, no thank you. I couldn't –" She tried to refuse, but Severus slid more food into her mouth. As she chewed, she mumbled in protest. If she didn't know better, she would think he was trying to fatten her up.

"It's not polite to talk with your mouth full," teased Severus before popping another piece of tempura into his mouth. Her eyes widened as the chopsticks lingered on his lips. Gods, that was hot! Her nipples tingled and blood flushed various parts of her traitorous body. This wasn't fair. Her body remembered his touch, but she didn't.

As if sensing her turmoil, Severus pushed his dish away and stared at her.

She tried to avert her gaze, but some unseen force coerced her to stare back. One of his eyebrows arched and he cocked his head to the right. An overwhelming urge to kiss him lanced through her and the pulse in her groin became difficult to ignore.

He leaned to the side and unfolded his legs, lying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow and several cushions. "You wish to kiss me," he stated simply, his tone one of encouragement.

_I want more than that,_ she groused, shifting uncomfortably on her soft pillows. She hardly noticed the table disappear.

"What is stopping you?" Her husband reclined among the cushions and closed his eyes. "I am yours."

How could she resist an invitation like that? Licking her lips, crawling toward him and kneeling by his side, she squelched the natural desire to straddle him. After all, she didn't want to squish him.

Leaning over Severus, Hermione placed both hands on either side of his head. _It's just a kiss,_ she promised herself. _Nothing more, nothing less. Remember the plan._ It was strange, almost as if she were outside her own body, watching. 

Closing the distance between them, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against the lips that haunted her dreams. He responded to her hesitant kiss, opening his lips and coaxing her to deepen it.

Touching her tongue to his, she whimpered, hoping her inexperience didn't show. Her doubts stilled her movements and she shied away. But her husband was having none of that. Sometime during the kiss, Severus had liberated her hair from the restrictive clip at the back of her neck. It was his hand now, which held her to him.

He groaned in protest as she tried to break the contact again. Opening her eyes, she was startled to find him staring into her eyes. His tongue sought entrance and she granted it willingly. 

Hermione conceded defeat gracefully. Tonight she would give him anything he asked and beg him to take everything she had. _After all, you only live once, right?_

--

Severus didn't know how he resisted the urge to strip her jeans and knickers off and lose himself inside her. The innocence and insecurities of her thoughts enflamed his lecherous libido. He had to have her. She shivered above him and he could feel that she was having difficulty maintaining her balance.

Sweeping his hands down her body, he massaged her hips in encouragement. "Climb on top of me," he mumbled against her lips, and dug his fingers into the denim.

Her eyes widened and she turned her head as if she were embarrassed. His Slytherin proclivities inspired his next move. He moved against her, pushing her onto her side and evening the playing field. Before she could protest, Severus thrust his knee between her thighs and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

Hermione yelped and tried to climb off him, but he held tight. Even through his trousers and her jeans, Severus could feel her heat. Unable to resist, he bucked against her. It seemed like an eternity. He needed her. 

Finally accepting her position, Hermione ground against him. "Severus-sss," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Crazed, he sat up and clung to her. He jerked her jumper up and exposed her satin-covered globes. He nipped her straining buds through the lush material and she arched her back.

His shy seductress was emboldened, shoving him down and rocking over his straining erection. Reaching between her generous flesh, she unhooked the material and freed her mounds.

He was gifted with the sight of the erect testaments of her desire for him. "Hermione." He strained to say her name, the heady lilt of desire lacing the edge of his voice. Brushing the pads of his thumb across one of her nipples, Severus nearly came in his trousers. The expression on her face was one of pure wonder.

Salivating, Severus sat up and latched onto her other nipple. By the Gods, if he could freeze time, he would. He was so close to completion, not just physical, but emotional as well. She was the spark – that one grain of hope he'd held on to during those dark years of the war. The realization was tangible and he knew he would move the heavens to be with her.

There was a roar in his ears that deafened him, so much so, that Severus realized it wasn't just the blood pumping through his veins, but someone calling out his name.

"Fuck," he hissed, quickly covering his wife. He noticed a timid shadow moving behind the paper screen. Hermione was so consumed by lust, she mewled her disappointment and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Being discreet, Dobby is," a trembling voice whispered.

"What is it?" growled Severus impatiently.

"Needs you, he does," Dobby called out. "Headmaster needs you and Madam Snape in his office with great urgency."

--

"This had better be good, Albus," Severus snarled as he stepped through the Floo after his wife, both he and Hermione stopping when they saw Potter standing next to Fawkes' perch.

"Did you find him?" Hermione whispered, abnormally pale.

The young Auror shook his head, a grim expression upon his face. "But there has been a new development."

Stepping in front of his wife as if to protect her from any bad news, Severus glared at Harry. "Well? Out with it, boy."

Harry sighed and stepped away. "Miriam Strout was found dead this afternoon. There's evidence that Lockhart is behind it."

Behind him, Severus could feel Hermione back away. Having no memory of Lockhart's magical abilities, she probably thought the wizard capable of anything. But he knew better. Or did he?

"But Lockhart Obliviated Hermione because he couldn't cast the Unforgivable," Severus said. "He said he couldn't kill me. He didn't know how. Are you trying to tell me that Lockhart can cast the Killing Curse now?"

"Yes," Harry replied solemnly. "He'll kill anybody who gets in his way.

Severus sneered as he reached for Hermione. "I've dueled with Lockhart before. He's a bumbling idiot."

Albus, looking grim behind his desk, cleared his throat. "But that was before Gilderoy became mad."

--

A/N –Lana Manckir was kind enough to paint this picture for me. Here's the link.   
Lana, I love it. I would leave you feedback on deviantart, but I couldn't figure out how to do so. This is my wallpaper. It goes without saying, I love this picture!

I must beg everybody to take a look and compliment Lana on her talent. God, Snape is hot – even with that nose!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen –

Gazing into the sea of students, Hermione pushed her breakfast of eggs Benedict around on her plate. "Where are they?" she mumbled under her breath. Without Allison and William, she couldn't cast the Fidelius Charm.

"Who?" Severus asked softly.

Hermione jumped. "Uh, no one," she stammered, shoving a piece of toast into her mouth and looking down at her plate. She could feel his scrutiny and schooled her features.

It had been two days since their dinner – two nights since their passion had almost been unleashed. That was the night they had found out exactly what Lockhart was capable of. Miriam Strout, the former Healer-In-Charge of the Janus Thickey Ward, was dead. All the evidence of her murder pointed to Lockhart. Apparently, Strout had been helping the man who had made Hermione's life a living hell ever since Hermione had woken up at St. Mungo's.

She had spent the last two nights by herself, consoling herself with thoughts of wringing Lockhart's neck when she caught up with him. Once she dealt with him, she would…

Well, she didn't know what she was going to do.

Her main focus ever since she'd left Hogwarts had been her career. Now, she had Severus to consider. Or did she?

Two nights ago, she had lain in bed, waiting for him to open the door and continue from where they had left off. But he never had.

It was for the best anyway. She needed to stay focused on the plan. She needed to find Lockhart before he tried to get to Severus.

A harried-looking pair of students rushed to the Ravenclaw table and sat down. Giving William and Allison a slight nod, Hermione smiled nervously. Today, she and Severus would go into Hogsmeade. Naturally, with the increased threat, her husband had tried to cancel the outing. But Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

Everything was ready. She'd asked William to be her Secret Keeper. Allison would be there to invoke the bond between the Secret Keeper and Hermione. It had taken some convincing, but Hermione had finally been able to convince the two Ravenclaws that they would not be expelled for doing magic off school grounds.

Besides, they would be in the Shrieking Shack. Were they really off grounds there?

Hermione gave a sidelong glance at her husband. He was drinking his coffee and glaring at the students. He would not be pleased when he discovered her duplicity. Yes, she had taken the wizard's oath. But, she had already figured out a way around it.

--

He had barely slept in two days. What sleep he did get was fragmented and of such poor quality, it did not merit mention. He had slept on the sofa, drawing on reserves he was unaware he possessed. The impulse to claim Hermione grew worse each day.

But he did not want their _first time_ to be tainted with fear. No matter how brave a front Hermione exhibited, she could not hide her fear. He was more fearful for his wife, now more than ever.

After all, Lockhart was more a threat now than ever.

He and Potter had agreed. Lockhart's magical abilities were expanding. When the bastard had had Hermione before, he had been delusional, going on about how he was the one responsible for vanquishing the Dark Lord.

The former Hogwarts' professor had wanted to kill Severus. Severus had seen the hatred in his eyes – hatred that he could have harnessed to cast the Killing Curse. Instead, Hermione's captor had Obliviated her. He shuddered in remembrance.

_"I can't –" Lockhart huffed, his spittle landing on Hermione's cheek. "I just can't do it, my love. I can't kill him, yet. I don't know how!"_

_Hermione squeaked and shook her head, tears spilling onto her cheeks. The look of terror in her eyes still haunted his dreams._

_His wand still pressing against Hermione's head, Lockhart glared at Snape. "I may not be able to kill you, but I can ease her suffering."_

Lockhart must have learned. He must have learned to tap into that hatred – the one thing truly needed to cast the Killing Curse.

She was protected within these walls – her jail (as she referred to it now). If it weren't for the fact that Hogsmeade was crawling with Aurors, Severus would have never agreed to their trip into Hogsmeade. He could not deny his wife this simple pleasure.

--

Hermione waited near the Whomping Willow for her two accomplices. Everything they needed to cast the Fidelius Charm was already in the tunnel that led from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack. Sensing someone was near, the tree swung its branches in the hope it would strike someone. She needed to stun the tree to let her two Ravenclaw helpers into the tunnel.

"Please hurry," she murmured as she watched the first groups of students hurry toward Hogsmeade. She didn't know how much time she would be able to buy until Severus came looking for her.

"Hurry, William," a girl's voice instructed softly. "We can't be late."

This was it – the second to the last piece of the puzzle. Hermione just needed to get her Secret Keeper in place. Then she would go find her husband.

--

Patiently, Severus waited, ignoring the cold wind around him. He paced the length of the courtyard and paid no mind to the gathering throngs of students as they walked by.

"Oh," a startled voice gasped as its owner collided with Severus. Grabbing Sybill Trelawney before she fell on her arse, he helped her right her shawl on her shoulders. She squinted at her preserver and smiled up at him.

"Ah, Severus! Good morning," the seer greeted him cheerily. She peered over his shoulder as if she could actually see past him. "Where is your other half?"

"Excuse me?" Severus asked as he backed away from her.

"Madam Snape," Trelawney inquired. "Where is your wife?"

"She'll be along shortly," he snapped, not wanting to talk to Hogwarts' "fair-weather-predictor." Anyone could see the snow was getting ready to turn into sleet.

Trelawney studied him silently.

"What!" Severus barked, annoyed by her unwavering gaze.

"I had begun to give up hope," Sybill sighed wistfully. "I had begun to give up hope that you and your other half would ever find one another," she muttered absentmindedly. "After all, you've managed to find one another before."

Severus rolled his eyes. Sybill was babbling about past lives and karma. She must be drunk. Leaning forward a little, he sniffed.

Yes! She was definitely pissed.

"I must admit that I don't recall such an age difference between the two lovers before," Sybill chattered excitedly. "Of course age does not matter. The ebb and flow of the other souls surround yours and Madam Snape's. When I first met Hermione, I thought it preposterous that you would ever date a student. "

He watched the seer walk away as she mumbled to herself.

It was true then. Albus had alluded to the possibility that Severus and Hermione were bound together before the invocation of ancient magic. He knew Sybill's assessment was true. The compulsion to bind her to him had been irresistible.

Like Albus, Severus did not believe in reincarnation. But he couldn't help but ponder the possibility of eternity with Hermione.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear his wife walk up behind him.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she apologized breathlessly as she looped her hand through his arm. "There was a student who needed some assistance in the Infirmary."

Severus smiled down at her and she averted her gaze. "We can postpone –"

"No, no!" she said, tugging on his arm. "I really want to go to Scrivenshaft's for a new quill."

He did not move.

"What is it?" Hermione asked softly. "Is something wrong?"

"You were in Scrivenshaft's when Lockhart spirited you away," he murmured in chilling remembrance.

Giving his arm a gentle squeeze, his wife smiled at him. "Even Lockhart isn't stupid enough to try the same thing twice."

"That's just it, Hermione," replied Severus. "Lockhart isn't stupid. He's dangerous."

"I know," she sighed, leaning into him and pressing her lips against his.

He hadn't touched her since their dinner date. He hadn't had the time. He had spent the last two nights double-checking the wards. Yielding to her soft exploration, Severus moaned and fought the urge to crush her to him.

Much to his disappointment, his wife ended the kiss and pulled him toward the village.

--

They walked into Hogsmeade Village in companionable silence, the knot of dread twisting in Hermione's gut. Silently, she prayed Severus would be able to forgive her once everyone was safe again. After all, she was doing this for him, right?

Hermione shuddered, the flurries of snow falling round them as they made their way to the quill shop. Severus was tense. Truth be told, so was she. She just wanted to explore her relationship with Severus.

Kicking the mud off their boots, they walked into Scrivenshaft's. Hermione picked up a peacock quill and pretended to study it. "I know he's dangerous," she said, continuing their earlier conversation. "That's why we need to let the Aurors do their jobs."

"Agreed," answered Severus as he moved behind her. "Should you feel the need to protect everyone you love and go after him yourself, don't. Potter is competent and will apprehend Lockhart soon."

Hermione put the peacock quill down and turned around. "I don't believe it," she gasped in mock surprise. "You just complimented Harry."

Her husband smirked. "I suppose I did. I only hope he lives up to it."

"And there's the rub," Hermione feigned exasperation.

Severus chuckled, his laughter jolting her back to reality. How was it this man had the power to destroy her focus? Turning toward the shop owner's wares, Hermione inspected other quills. "The same goes for you, you know. Promise me you won't go after Lockhart."

Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face him. Long fingers pressed under her chin and she couldn't help but look into his intense eyes, a sense of desperation clawing in the pit of her stomach. She needed to stay focused on the plan.

--

His wife licked her lips, luring him to the lush flesh like a siren calling a sailor to his death. He was a weak man. If it weren't bad manners, he would shag Hermione right here. His desire for her bordered on painful. As if a magnet drew him, Severus kissed her, a mere whisper of his lips across hers. "I am neither a man of honor nor principles and cannot promise you that," he murmured silkily. "Unless, of course, you would make the same promise to me."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. Resting her head on his shoulder, she gave him a gentle squeeze, and then pulled away. "I need to go to the loo," she whispered.

--

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror. Unlike the mirror in Severus' bedchambers, this mirror wasn't enchanted. She almost wished it were enchanted. Even though she didn't need to hear how asinine her plan was, she wouldn't mind some kind of input. Her husband was on the other side of the door, waiting for her. Hopefully, when this was all over, Severus would forgive her.

"I'm doing this for him…for us," she affirmed, cringing as she tried to justify her actions. Not only was she lying to Severus, she was involving two students in her mad scheme. William and Allison had been reluctant to break school rules, but had agreed to help her after she had begged and pleaded. No longer willing to wallow in self-doubt and guilt, Hermione took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves.

Closing her eyes, she Apparated. Within seconds, the dark, dusty air of the Shrieking Shack surrounded her and she coughed. There was hardly any light in the corridor as all the windows were boarded.

"William?" called Hermione. "Allison?" Starting up the stairs, she unsheathed her wand.

"We're up here," William yelled down the stairs from one of the bedrooms.

She was at the top of the stairs now, the hollow feeling in her chest growing. Opening the door to the third bedroom, she gave the two students a nervous smile and stopped. They were terrified, the expressions on their faces frozen in fear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Their gaze flitted behind her and she looked over her shoulder. A black shadow moved and the door crept shut slowly as if she were watching a scene from a Muggle horror movie. A pale, angular face emerged from the shadows and Hermione gripped her wand tighter.

Oh Gods! What had she done? Before she could hurl a hex at the man who couldn't possibly be her husband, one word was uttered.

"Phoenix."

The password sent shivers up her spine and the hollow feeling in her chest felt as though it would burst at any moment.

Severus' eyes narrowed on the two students as he looked past Hermione. "Fifty points from Ravenclaw…each," her husband said, his inflection neutral, yet furious. "Go back to the school straight away. You shall serve detention for the next two weeks with Mr. Filch."

Her accomplices bowed their heads and walked past her, William murmuring a quiet "sorry" on his way out. All the supplies and books to perform the charm were scattered on the floor.

She watched helplessly as her Secret Keeper abandoned her. So many emotions warred within her – regret, anger, and fear…

"Don't you think you were a little harsh on them…Severus?" she asked, her voice trailed off as courage deserted her. Her husband looked dangerously angry. She knelt in front of the pile of books and supplies on the dirty floor and started rearranging them. She would do anything so as not to meet Severus' cold, furious gaze.

Her husband made no reply.

"How did you know?" she asked softly.

Severus said nothing. Instead, he continued glaring at her with his scowl firmly in place.

She could shoulder his stinging wit, but his silent treatment was unbearable. "I did not break the wizard's oath," she stated firmly. "I promised not to leave Hogwarts without a proper chaperone. There wasn't anything implied that said I had to stay with the chaperone."

There was still no reply.

"William and Allison were only trying to help." Pointing her wand at the stack of books, she shrank them and put them in her pocket. "You were a bit harsh, don't you think?" she asked, fishing for a response to ease her growing guilt.

Severus remained quiet.

Her anger boiled over. The problem with said anger was that she didn't know who to direct it – herself, her husband, or Gilderoy Lockhart. "I wanted to cast the Fidelius Charm. I needed to go into hiding to find that sick arse! I can't stay at Hogwarts," she argued, standing and finally looking him in the eyes. She tried to force him to see reason. "The students are in danger. The staff is in danger… You're in danger." The last sentence was barely a whisper.

Realizing you're hopelessly in love with someone is a traumatic process. Having the epiphany in the middle of an argument with that person who wasn't even speaking to her was even worse. "I didn't mean to hurt you," whispered Hermione, bowing her head and staring at her chest.

Grasping her shoulders, Severus coaxed Hermione to look at him. "Regardless of your good intentions, your actions violated the spirit of the promise, which is now null and void. As for the house points, you know students are not permitted to perform magic off school grounds, Madam Snape. Do you not think it imprudent, much less dangerous that you involved two students in this asinine scheme?"

Hermione cringed, the use of her married name fluttering dangerously close to hope that Severus would forgive her.

"I would have taken points from Gryffindor if I could have," her husband chastised. "Just because you, Potter, and Weasley saw fit to break the rules every time you saw fit does not make it right.

"Though noble, your intentions are unwarranted," Severus stated, his voice stern, as if he were giving a lecture. "Hogwarts survived decades under threat of Voldemort. Surely its walls can protect you against the likes of Gilderoy Lockhart. As far as how I found out about this scheme… The enchanted mirror in **_our_** bedchamber is a Mirror of Truth, not a mirror of secrets. Should --"

"So we are to hide in Hogwarts all our lives," Hermione huffed irritably, making a quick mental note to toss a towel over that blasted mirror whenever she was getting dressed. "What about my family and friends? Should we move them in, as well? They are in danger too. He could use them to get to me. My parents are Muggles, Severus. They won't be able to fight him off."

Feeling tears well in her eyes, she stared at her shoes.

--

Sighing, Severus pulled Hermione against him, cradling her head against his chest. He stroked her hair as she sniffled against his chest.

Hermione shivered, extinguished his anger. His wife skated on a dangerous edge, one that longed for freedom, a freedom that was impossible as long as Lockhart was on the loose. No matter how much he wished to please her, he just couldn't risk her safety.

"You must understand, Hermione. If anything were to happen to you…" His voice softened. "I could never forgive myself."

Moist brown eyes gazed into his. "I'm sorry," she whispered shakily and licked her lips.

The temptation to kiss her was irresistible, but he was able to temper his natural response. Brushing his lips across hers, Severus retreated. "The Aurors are probably looking for us. We should go back to the village."

His wife nodded in agreement and looped her arm through his.

Pulling her closer, they Apparated to the front door of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

"There they are!" a young wizard in Auror robes shouted excitedly.

Instinctively, Severus pushed Hermione behind him. Only when he saw Potter round the corner, did Severus relax.

"'Mione!" Harry yelled.

Moving out of the way, jealousy speared through him as Harry embraced Hermione. The expression on his wife's face was so sorrowful, it made him ache.

"I was so worried," Harry murmured against her silken curls. "Where were you?"

Hermione pulled away and grimaced with embarrassment. Watching his wife struggle to explain herself, Severus wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against him. "My wife needed some time alone."

Harry murmured something under his breath and glared at Severus. "And you couldn't see fit to let us know? Do you realize –"

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Snape snapped. "My wife –"

"Stop it!" Hermione planted herself between her husband and her friend. Turning toward Harry, she murmured an apology. Grasping his arm, she tugged. "We should be going."

She sounded dejected and tired, as if her effervescent spirit had dwindled under the strain of recent events. Tugging her in the opposite direction, Severus stared at Harry pointedly. "I trust you and your colleagues to provide security while my wife and I take tea at Madam Puddifoot's."

"Madam Puddifoot's!" Potter and his wife exclaimed simultaneously.

Even though he was cringing inwardly at the thought of stepping foot in that obscenely romantic establishment, Severus couldn't contain his smirk of satisfaction. Gently, he placed a finger under Hermione's chin and pushed it up, effectively closing her gaping mouth, and glanced at Harry. "You should close your mouth before you swallow a fly, Potter."

--

TBC

A/N -- My apologies for the link thing, but it just wouldn't take. Apparently, it just doesn't work here. Anyway, the picture is on deviant art. Its title is Dinner by Perselus. Since reviews and alerts are down, I haven't responded to the last two chapters like I normally do since you all aren't getting my responses. Sniff!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N – My sincerest apologies for the lack of updates. I am assuming that no one could upload on ff. net due to the servers crashing. Grrr! Anyway, on with the show.

--

Chapter Fifteen –

She didn't know which was more disconcerting -- watching her husband calmly sipping his tea or the gob smacked expression on the other patrons' faces. After Severus had caught her trying to implement her plan, Hermione had resigned herself that she would spend her days at Hogwarts until Lockhart was apprehended.

As she had approached Madam Puddifoot's, she had experienced such a strong apprehension. But Severus had tightened his hold on her and the panicked feeling fled from her thoughts.

Setting his cup on its saucer, Severus stared at her in contemplation. His gaze was unsettling, but not unwelcome.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking a sip of her honeyed tea. "I wouldn't know how to go about explaining myself to Harry."

"Hermione…" Severus cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion. "Surely you realize how much I would miss you, should you ever leave…"

His fingers flexed on the table as though he were restraining himself from touching her.

"I am truly sorry, Severus," she said as she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. "I never meant to hurt you."

Turning his hand under hers, he entwined his fingers with hers. "It was a foolish plan, Hermione. Although your scheme was honorable, clearly you can see the fatal flaw in it. Lockhart would search the ends of the earth for you…as would I. In your effort to protect those you care for, you would have been endangering them even more. You are his obsession. He would torture anyone whom he believed to be your Secret Keeper."

His words sent a creeping shiver through her already chilled body. Her husband was right. In her effort to justify the plan, she had ignored that little logical voice in her head and had listened to the louder voice -- the brash Gryffindor part of her -- which was clamoring to go after Lockhart.

"The next promise I extract from you shall be iron-clad," stated Severus matter-of-factly.

Feeling heat infuse her cheeks, Hermione studied their interwoven fingers and caressed the callused pads of one of his fingers. "What did you mean when you said the promise was null and void?"

Instead of answering her question straight away, Severus picked up his cup and sipped his tea. His dark eyes never left hers, the look in them sending a sliver of excitement to her very soul. He set down his cup and a small smile curled his lips. "Since I was the 'injured party,' I am not honor-bound to keep my end of the bargain."

--

Truthfully, his end of the bargain had been overrated at best. Yes, he had wished for the opportunity to court her, but had he really needed to? Hermione was more than amicable to the idea of the courtship. In fact, judging by her thoughts, she was hoping for more.

Her frustration would be endearing to him if it weren't for the fact that he wanted her to the point of madness. Unlike her, Severus could remember the molten heat of her cradling his cold heart.

A fairy, dressed as Cupid, flew between them and made to shoot them with an imaginary bow and arrow. Waving the annoyance away, Severus sighed. He wished to tell her of his love for her, but Madam Puddifoot's was not exactly conducive to the mood. In fact, the setting was positively revolting. 

"But your end of the bargain was to court me," Hermione replied, her eyes widening in realization.

Yes, theirs was not a traditional courtship, but it was the closest thing to one he could muster under present circumstances. What his wife was just now realizing was the intent of his promise. He had essentially promised not to pressure her into "more" than she was ready for.

Now, all bets were off. A seduction was in order in the very near future. _Just not tonight._ Severus still adhered to the philosophy that when they did make love – it would not be tainted with fear. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it.

--

Their outing had been brief but productive. After tea at Madam Puddifoot's, Severus had taken her to Honeydukes Sweetshop. Her suspicions had been confirmed. Her husband was trying to fatten her up. He had bought her some sugar quills (to make up for the fact that she had been unable to buy a new quill at Scrivenshaft's), several Licorice Wands, some treacle tarts, and a box of Chocoballs.

As they walked through the halls of the dungeons, Hermione smiled. She was going to have to alter her exercise regimen. _Sex is exercise,_ she mused, her lecherous grin growing wider.

Reaching the door to their living quarters, Severus removed the wards, placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek, and tried to back away. "I must check the other wards," he explained, staring at where her hand clutched his arm.

"Can't it wait," Hermione purred in what she hoped was a seductive tone, running her other hand up his arm and resting it on his shoulder.

"Hermione," replied Severus, her name on his lips a husky whisper of reluctant consent.

She leaned into him, pressing her soft breasts against his hard chest. Turning her head up for a kiss, Hermione closed her eyes. 

--

Feeling like a reprobate, Severus' eyes drifted closed and he skimmed his lips over hers. "We can't." Her breath was invitingly warm against his cheek.

Her eyes opening wide, the young witch pouted. "Why not?"

Her need was a tangible ache, reflected in the cinnamon pools of her eyes. "You're afraid, Hermione."

"Of you?" she asked, perplexed.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Severus willed himself to walk away from her. But he couldn't move. It was as though he were rooted to the spot, a plant, begging for the rays of warmth. How could he explain what he wanted? What he needed? He wanted their "first" time to be something memorable for her, not tainted with fear.

"Please, Severus," his wife pleaded. "Please make love to me."

Her request was one he could never refuse. Pushing through the front door of their living quarters, Severus devoured Hermione, praying for the stamina to bring his wife to climax. As they danced their way toward the bedchamber, they tore at each other's clothing, each excited moan and gasp of approval spurring him on.

She was voracious, pulling his robe and shirt off and going for his trousers. Her movements were desperate and tinged with fear. He covered her hands and stilled her progress. He needed her to know. He needed more than the physical release she offered.

He needed for her to know how much she meant to him. He needed to tell her that he loved her. Shoving her navy blue robe over her shoulders, Severus growled with needful hunger as the words that he longed to speak lodged in his throat. 

Her robe pooled around her ankles and she stepped out of it, revealing her Muggle jeans and black sweater.

Waving his hand toward the bed, Severus summoned the candles in the room to light. His resolve was weakening as his flesh begged for her touch. 

Writhing against him, Hermione suckled his pulse point and mewled as he plucked her nipples through the cloth of her sweater. 

A light in the corner of the room flashed, drawing the focus of his attention from his wife's affections. The Mirror of Truth gleamed expectantly as if it were calling to him. Hermione's hand grazed the growing bulge of his trousers, momentarily distracting him.

"Gods, Hermione," his strangled cry echoed off the dungeon walls. No matter how hard he tried, words failed him. Love was such a simplistic word. It did not suffice. There was so much more to his feelings for this woman. Closing his eyes, Severus' head lolled backwards as he gave himself over to his virgin wife's ministrations.

Fisting his hands in her curly chestnut hair, he just couldn't bring himself to pull her away. _I love you,_ he chanted in his heart, the compulsion one he welcomed. Her hands roamed freely, tugging on his trousers. She slid a hand past the buttons and caressed his satin rod.

Logic and desire collided, and Severus grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. She was disappointed, judging by the inarticulate growl that erupted from her chest.

"Please," she whimpered, trying to wrap one of her legs around him. "I need you."

He gazed over her shoulder, rocking against her. The reflection of their intertwined bodies called to him. The Mirror was the answer. He would use the bloody bane of his existence to show her his feelings.

With strength only the most dedicated possessed, Severus pried his young witch's body from his. She could not mask her frustration – a frustration that compelled tears to her eyes.

Guiding her toward the Mirror of Truth, Severus watched as his pale half-naked form appeared. His trousers hung low on his hips, the dark hair of his pubis peeking over the cloth. Her breasts begged for his touch, the gentle ridge of her nipples straining against the cotton of her jumper.

They were a direct contrast of one another, the light of her soul standing next to his dark essence. Pulling her in front of him, he stared at her reflection and wiped her tears away. He wrapped his hand around her waist and splayed his hand over the curve of her stomach. Briefly, Severus wondered if he would ever feel his child move in the warm cocoon of her body.

His reflection mimicked his movements, yet the expression on its face differed. It arched one of its eyebrows questioningly and stared at its originator quizzically.

Placing a gentle kiss on her flushed cheek, Severus glared at his doppelganger. It would figure that the menace would pick now to clam up. "Tell her," he growled as he nuzzled the delicate shell of his wife's ear.

The reflection's demeanor sobered. "He loves you."

Hermione's mirror image smiled, taking Severus' breath away. It was a knowing smile, one that showed him her acceptance.

Turning her head sideways, Hermione's moist eyes met his. "Is it true?"

"Yes," replied Severus before crushing his lips to hers. She yielded beneath his touch, welcoming his passion. He reached for the bottom of her jumper, but Hermione pushed his hands gently away.

Stepping back, she took the hem of her black sweater and pulled it over her head, revealing the creamy expanse of her lace-covered breasts. With a sneer, his wife tossed her jumper at the Mirror of Truth, strategically covering the upper portion so that they were truly alone.

He was painfully aroused. Closing the small gap between them, he made to kiss her, but teased his virginal bride with a soft caress of her lips. "Hermione," whispered Severus so softly even he wondered if he had spoken her name. "I need you."

--

His dark head bent and he nuzzled the tops of her fleshy mounds and his fingers thrummed her pert nipples through the material of her bra. "Then take me." Her answer was a strangled groan.

Her husband knelt in front of her as though he could no longer support his own weight. He peeled the layer of flimsy material away, freeing her voluptuous globes. "Not yet," he growled, burying his face in the valley of her breasts and inhaling sharply.

Only when he began to suckle her did she begin to mewl. Darts of burning pleasure moved through her and she shifted and tried to ease the ache between her thighs.

"Yes," he hissed between nips and licks. "Burn for me as I burn for you, Hermione."

With sure fingers, he unbuttoned the top of her jeans and pushed the material over her hips. The scrape of his roughened cheek against the soft skin sent tremors of pleasure darting through her body.

The dark-haired wizard chuckled when she moaned. The denim material hung on her thighs as Severus leaned into her in an effort to maintain her balance. Gently, he lifted one of her legs and pulled her trainer and sock off. Then he repeated the process and kissed his way up her body.

"Please," she whimpered as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She should be nervous, but the licks of desire Severus inspired eased any trepidation.

"Patience," he cautioned before capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Sliding one of his hands toward the crux of her thighs, Severus moaned as he touched her heated core.

Closing her eyes, Hermione jerked in his arms, craving more of Severus' touch and needing her husband to join with her. She needed to stoke the embers of his passion for her into a raging fire.

With a seductive smile, she dropped to her knees and tugged his trousers down to his thighs. His protest turned into a groan as she took his thick length into her mouth.

"Gods, Hermione!" he groaned, fisting his fingers into her hair.

Hermione growled in frustration as she suckled the silken flesh. He was like a granite statue, unable to move or breathe. The taste of his readiness seeped from him and she lapped at the liquid greedily.

With a strangled hiss, Severus pulled her to her feet and completed the struggle to free himself of his boots and trousers. His frenzied movements swelled her feminine pride. His restraint had dissolved. 

Feeling the edge of the bed at the back of her knees, she sat down. Gentle hands pushed at her shoulders, coaxing her to lie down. Hermione lifted her hips in encouragement as he yanked her jeans and knickers off.

His dark eyes were wide and glassy, and instinct guided him to claim her.

His invasion was swift and shocking, his girth stretching her inexperienced passage. His eyes widened and locked with hers as he stilled within her. There was no pain, no discomfort, just a feeling of fullness.

"Forgive me," rasped Severus as he held himself above her.

--

Silently cursing his miserable existence, Severus tried to pull away. He'd done it again! He had hurt her!

Locking one of her legs around his buttocks, he stayed in retreat. Confusion marred the delicate curve of her brow. "Please," she pleaded huskily, moving against him in seductive invitation.

His will held no sway over their union and he knew then that he could never leave the warm depths of her body until she met her release. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured, half in agony, half in bliss. "Please forgive me."

"Nothing…to…forgive," she panted, awash in sensation. The fear that had taken hold of him dissipated and he sent a silent, thankful prayer to the Gods for him wife's resilience.

Her velvet channel cradled his erect flesh as he began to move slowly, letting his lover adjust. "Hermione," he gasped, needing to feel her reach nirvana. He owed her that much. 

Gathering her close, Severus carried Hermione with him as he rolled onto his back. He didn't think it possible, but their connection deepened and his wife keened.

A passionate blush covered her body as she sat astride him and basked in the glow of their connection. Nudging his thumb between her exposed folds, Severus caressed the swollen evidence of her excitement.

As long as he lived, he would never forget the sight and feel of her climax, the way her body gripped his, the way her blush burned brighter. Her orgasm heralded his, and Severus flooded her welcoming orifice with his seed.

She collapsed on top of him. Only the sound of the replete lovers could be heard. They stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity.

Hermione tried to climb off him, but he held her in place, unwilling to give up their intimate connection.

Realizing her struggles were fruitless, Hermione settled around him and placed a chaste kiss upon his lips. "I love you, too."

--

He felt insatiable, as though he was twenty years younger. Having tested the depths of their desire, they rested. Thankfully, it was Sunday, a good day for a lie-in. Other than the continued threat of Gilderoy Lockhart…

Severus closed his eyes and sighed, his spirit content, yet restless. When he faced Lockhart, Severus would carry out the sentence the Aurors had failed to. Not only will he never remember his wife, that ruddy bastard won't remember anything about his own bloody existence. 

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a small moan next to him. Hermione nestled closer, seeking his warmth and stoking the familiar reaction. He cupped the weight of one of her breasts and teased the nipple between his fingertips.

Hermione sighed, but kept sleeping.

"I love you," he murmured against her shoulder, damning his stupidity. It was easy to say it when she was sleeping. It was a phrase he had long forgotten, buried deep within one of the many traumas in his childhood. As a child, lessons had been taught – lessons where sentimental rubbish were abhorred and shunned.

His lover wiggled against him, her bum against his erection. The urge to take her gripped him and he scowled. Muscles he hadn't even known existed protested. Even the Dark Mark on his left forearm ached. If he were sore, surely she was. They would rest today, he resolved. Tonight, she was his.

Trailing his hand along her rib cage, Severus cradled the curve of her stomach. He could tell the moment she woke for the pattern of her breathing changed into a husky shudder. Hermione arched her back and stretched like a lazy lioness.

"Good morning," whispered Severus as his hand traveled lower. Brushing her silken curls, he chuckled at her response.

"Again?" she groaned, yet opened for him anyway. "You know, for an older man, you certainly are virile."

Kissing her shoulder, Severus pulled her toward him. "Thankfully, I have a young witch to attend to my every need," he retorted cheekily.

"Attend to your needs?" Hermione pretended to be taken aback. "How archaic!"

His wife leered at him as she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Even though his sex was swelling with intent, Severus denied himself the pleasure of seeking comfort. Instead, he smacked her bum playfully and laughed when she shrieked in protest. Maneuvering her off him, he got out of bed and stretched.

Under hooded lashes, his young witch observed the flex of his muscles. He held out a hand to her. "Bathe with me," he said, his voice seductive.

Grabbing his hand, Hermione stood and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I thought you would never ask."

--

Chewing her sandwich thoughtfully, Hermione smiled. She was so deliciously sore. They had missed breakfast due to their excursion in the bath. Severus was sitting next to Dumbledore, deep in conversation with the headmaster.

Stealing a glance toward the Ravenclaw table, Hermione smiled nervously at William and Allison. She owed them a big apology, and an explanation to Professor Flitwick as to her involvement in such a devastating hit on House Points. Both students looked down suddenly.

"Would you please stop glaring at William and Allison?" asked Hermione without even looking at Severus.

"They are fortunate I did not punish them further," he replied before sipping his tea and turning his attention to her.

A loud hiccup and the sound of clattering dishes interrupted their brewing argument. Everyone in the Great Hall turned their attention to Sibyll Trelawney as she clumsily mopped up her spilt drink.

"There, there now," Dumbledore soothed the nervous witch as he Vanished the contents of her beverage from his robe and the table.

In a daze, the seer rose and walked round the staff table to the center of the Great Hall. She gazed out the window, seemingly enjoying the sunlight.

"Professor Trelawney?" Hermione could hear the concern in the headmaster's voice.

Trelawney stiffened and grabbed her chest as though she were having some kind of fit. Her voice was low and raspy as she spoke. "The cycles of time as past, present and future. The corrupt spirit shall invoke primeval rites. The face of death, on its belly crawls. The lion shall conquer the Gorgon. What is believed lost will return in time."

A chill consumed Hermione, her lunch churning in her stomach. She may be a flake ninety-nine percent of the time, but Sibyll Trelawney's prophecies had ways of becoming reality.

--

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

A/N – As always, I am indebted to my betas, Kathy Rose and Larilee. A very special thank you goes to Lana for creating such magnificent details from my muddled descriptions. She was kind enough to do another scene from chapter fifteen – the one where Severus tells Hermione that he loves her in the mirror. It can be found here.  
http ://perselus. livejournal. com/42448. html. (Don't forget to take the spaces out of the link.) Please let Lana know what you think. She really does put her heart and soul into these pictures. Thanks to all who have reviewed. Those reviews inspire the bunny to type faster.

Mature Content ahead!

--

Chapter Sixteen

--

Stroking the curve of Hermione's hip possessively, Severus nipped the soft flesh of her shoulder. "You heard the headmaster," he murmured, licking the spot he had just teased. "Sybill was drunk before breakfast. The 'prophecy,' if that is what it was, has nothing to do with you and I."

Even though she was replete with passion, he could sense her worry. He had tried to exorcise her demons, but the fear clung to her like a second skin. She was plotting again. He didn't need to enter her thoughts to discern that.

Her bloody Gryffindor courage was going to be the death of him. She was driven to protect the ones she loved. It was as natural to her as breathing. "You cannot leave me," he stated softly. "I will follow wherever you go."

Hermione exhaled.

He had expected an argument, but there was none. His concern grew, not only for her physical safety, but for her mental well-being too. If they were to ever move forward, Lockhart had to be dealt with.

Hermione shifted, turning to face him and weaving one of her legs between his. "Well then, that's settled. Since I can't leave without you and you can't leave without me, we'll have to go after Gilderoy together."

"That is out of the question," replied Severus, capturing her lips with his. He could taste the escalation of the argument on her lips, so he deepened his possession and pushed her onto her back, pinning her down with his body.

She was breathless by the time the kiss ended, fire flashing in her eyes. Or was it desire? Wiggling beneath him, she dug her fingernails into his arse and silently demanded he join with her.

"You're being unreasonable," she moaned, opening her legs in welcome.

Severus smirked. Making love to her while arguing with her was exhilarating. "You shall never leave me again," he murmured coercively as he teased her moist core with his weeping tip.

Thrusting up to meet his flesh, Hermione keened.

Backing away from her, Severus licked his way down her body and buried his face in her delectable musk. He ached to claim her, but he needed to ensure her cooperation first. Opening her with his long fingers, he flicked his tongue across her clitoris. "Promise me…that you…will never…leave me," he murmured between driving his wife crazy and lapping her silken moisture.

"No," she rasped huskily, thrusting her hips up to meet his attentions.

Thrusting his fingers into her tight sheath, he tested her readiness. He knelt in front of her and pushed her knees apart. He didn't know who he was tormenting more – her or himself, but he had to have her cooperation.

Severus stilled above her, poised to take her. "Please," he whispered solemnly across her lips. "Promise me." The slow agony burned deep within him as he completed their union.

--

This promise was more than the Wizard's Oath. This promise would set the stage for their future. She felt the compulsion to say yes, but her Gryffindor heart shouted a hearty "No." He rested within her, trembling above her and pleading with her.

"Promise me," he rasped, rubbing his cheek along the delicate skin of her neck.

"I can't," she gasped as Severus lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder. She was vulnerable, at her husband's mercy. "I love you too much."

Setting the rhythm, beads of sweat dripped from his body. "Noble Gryffindor," he chuffed in aggravation, lengthening his strokes. "Please honor my request."

Gods, she was so close and he knew it. He was using sex as a weapon. "I can't," replied Hermione, trying to entice him to move faster.

Severus groaned, his frustration over his young wife's stubbornness etched in every line of his body. "Then you leave me no choice," he growled.

"Wh-what are you d-doing?" she whimpered as he stilled above her and started chanting.

He stopped chanting and kissed her, pulling her bottom lip between his crooked teeth and suckling the accessible flesh. Letting it go, Severus gave her a furious look. "I am binding your powers."

"You can't!" gasped Hermione. "I have never harmed anyone."

"But you shall." As Severus sat back on his haunches, he clutched her hips and arse and pulled her with him, maintaining their intimate connection.

She had never felt so exposed before. "No, I won't. It is not my intent to harm Lockhart."

Sneering, Severus plucked one of her nipples lazily. "You are more generous than I, little one."

She didn't know which was more dangerous, the fact that she wasn't furious with him or the fact that she couldn't read him. "Severus, please."

"Swear, Hermione!" he commanded, sliding his thumb between her folds and caressing her swollen sex.

He was so deep, his body and soul demanding compliance. "I swear!" she cried, tears of frustration spilling down her cheek as she came undone around him.

--

"You are a right bastard," his reflection commented as he mimicked Severus' manner.

Buttoning one of his cuffs, Severus sneered. First, he needed to go into Hogsmeade and retrieve some Potions' ingredients he had ordered, then he would go about making things right with his wife and ensuring her safety. "Yes, I am. But it worked."

"Do you honestly think she'll honor the promise? After all, she broke the last one." The mirror's disapproving black eyes stared into Severus'.

Looking at the empty bed, Severus frowned. Hermione was furious with him. "I am sure she shall find some loophole. It was an inspired bluff, actually. I cannot believe she would believe that I would actually bind her powers. Binding one's powers is an archaic absurdity, an urban myth."

The mirror scoffed. "I can't believe you bluffed a Gryffindor."

--

"Oh dear," Hermione said as she dabbed potion onto the back of a third-year Hufflepuff. "I'm afraid you have Dragon Pox, Priscilla."

"I'll be able to play in next Saturday's Quidditch game, won't I?" Priscilla asked worriedly.

"We'll see," she replied calmly, feeling guilty for giving the student false hope. Capping the potion, Hermione pulled Priscilla's pajamas back into place. She patted her shoulder, helped her lie down, and tucked the covers around her. "Look on the bright side, Priscilla. At least you get out of Potions."

The freckled girl giggled and settled into bed. "Thanks, Madam Snape."

"You're welcome," replied Hermione as she walked to the supply cabinet and stored the potion. She hoped Poppy made it back from Hogsmeade soon. She wanted to talk to Severus when he had a free moment today.

Walking to the desk, she sat down and stared out the window, letting her anger over last night simmer. If her overbearing husband thought she was about to honor a promise made to him through coercion, he had another thing coming.

"Binding my powers," jeered Hermione as she grasped a quill and started writing in Priscilla's medical record. "I can't believe I fell for that."

--

"Good morning, Severus," Poppy greeted the dour looking Potions master as she walked up to the counter at the Apothecary. The man did not look pleased. In fact, he looked rather ill. She had patched him up too many times to count to not be able to recognize his closely guarded look of pain. "Is something the matter? Are you feeling well?"

Severus' cold dark gaze turned toward her. "Yes, it is," he complained. "I ordered some ingredients last week and they Owled me that my order was in. It would seem that they have misplaced the items. To make matters worse, I am late for class."

Poppy studied him closely. He looked pale, paler than usual. "If you like, I could wait here for you. I need to pick up a few things myself."

"Thank you, Poppy," he replied. "I would appreciate –"

Wincing, Severus clutched his left arm and dropped to his knees. "The Dark Mark," he groaned through the pain. "It can't be! Oh, gods!"

Kneeling in front of him, Poppy ripped the sleeve of his robe and shirt, exposing a marble-hard alabaster splotch where the former Death Eater's skull-and-serpent mark was.

Looking in to her colleague's eyes, she could see his retreat into himself. That had always been his defense against long bouts of the Cruciatus Curse. The marbling effect spread, encompassing his wrist and hand, and steadily crept up past the material of his clothing.

Poppy tore at Severus' clothing, revealing the speed and severity of the curse.

Severus groaned, shuddering as the pain swept though his arm.

"We must get you back to the castle, Severus," Poppy said, trying to keep her tone calm and soothing. "There's dark magic working here. The wards in the castle will stop it from spreading," _I hope._

The Druggist came toward them then, saying, "I apologize, Professor, but I can't find the order-- Oh, my!" He rushed to their side. "Should I send for help?"

Hearing the crackle of bone and tissue turn to stone made Poppy cringe. She had to stabilize him quickly before the curse claimed a vital organ. "We need to use your fireplace."

"Yes, of course," the man replied, motioning toward the back room.

"Hermione," Severus rasped, his eyes reflective pools of searing pain. "Save Hermione."

"First, I'm going to save you," Poppy argued and waved her wand over the infected area. "_Finite Incantatem._"

The infection continued to spread, slowly creeping toward his shoulder.

"Of course it wouldn't be that simple," she mumbled under her breath. Poppy looked around the shop to see if anyone other than the shopkeeper was near. Someone was near, someone with hate in their heart.

Holding the cold, marble hand of her friend, Poppy swore. "Severus, I have to treat this, but I won't know how until I study it more closely."

As she raised her wand to cast a healing charm, Severus tried to grab her wrist to stop her. "No!" he protested. "Lockhart…Hermione…"

His shoulder was turning gray, soon to turn to stone. Any illusions that she may have had that Gilderoy Lockhart was harmless dissolved. The ugly reality of his vengeance was lying on the floor, struggling to live. "Severus, I'm sorry, but I've got to do this. Hermione will be fine. I promise."

The skin of his shoulder crackled as it hardened.

Poppy waved her wand and closed her eyes. She had never seen Severus in such agony before. "_Victus Mortis Suspensum._"

--

_"Come to me, my love," a soft voice called to Hermione. Peering through the hazy fog of her dream, she felt the cold fingers of fear strangle her soul. _

_"Severus!" Her voice echoed, the sound of crashing waves nearby. "Where are you? I can't find you?"_

_"You are free," a lover's voice whispered in her mind. "Come to me."_

_Groping her way along the damp wall of earth, a sense of panic smothered her normally reckless courage. "I can't find you!"_

_"Come to me, Hermione," the masculine voice commanded, a note of desperation clinging to it._

_Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she searched for her lover. Then she fell, tripping over something so large she was lying on top of it. It was cold, hard, and lifeless._

_"You're free," the chilling voice kept repeating. "Come to me!"_

_Crawling off whatever she had fallen on, Hermione shivered. Bits and pieces of marble peeked through the haze. She could make out a hand, and then an arm. It was a statue of some kind, one that had been tipped over and was now lying on its side._

_The fog rolled away, like a curtain revealing a treasured prize. It was a statue of a man, one posed as if he had accepted his fate, yet he continued to fight it. It felt as though strings were attached to her heart, strings that were pulling her away from the beautiful statue. She clung to it, desperate to study it, feeling the compulsion to stay with the statue._

_"You are mine," the voice whispered harshly, growing closer._

_She cleaved to the cold stone._

_"Let him go." The voice drew closer. "You belong to me now. You are my one true love. I have forged the eternal bond. We shall never be parted again."_

_She cried, tracing the familiar face and wanting to share in the statue's fate. An orange light flashed and the marble began to disintegrate in her arms. _

Hermione jerked away, a blessed noise rescuing her from the horrible nightmare. The green flash was already gone and she could see Poppy backing out of the fireplace, her packages obviously very burdensome.

"Hermione!" Madam Pomfrey shouted.

"I'm right here," replied Hermione, still unable to see what her mentor was struggling with.

"Thank the gods!" The matron heaved a sigh of relief.

Puzzled, Hermione drew closer. "Can I help you with your packages, Madam Pom –?"

The nightmare had become reality as she saw, not what Poppy struggled with, but whom. Severus hung in mid-air, being levitated toward the nearest bed. His face was serene, a peaceful slumber etched into his features. His robe and shirt were torn, revealing a white hand and arm that did not belong to its owner.

"Is Professor Snape going to be all right?" Priscilla asked from across the room.

Having settled Severus on the bed, Poppy knelt down and checked his arm and shoulder. "Thank the Gods, it has stopped."

It was as though Hermione had been kicked in the chest, her heart aching so painfully she would have wished for an end to it. Her training dictated she remain calm, but her soul felt as though it were shattering into a million pieces.

"You there!" Poppy called to the matron in the portrait. "Fetch the headmaster, quickly!"

The matron ran out of the frame, and Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand toward the bookcase of medical journals and summoned a thick book. Holding Severus' stone arm, the matron chanted over the book, which quickly opened and hovered in front of her.

"There has to be a curse!" she hissed in frustration as the pages fluttered as though aggravated by the school nurse's accusation. "Try potions, then."

_"You are free!"_ a voice chanted in her head. _"Come to me, my love!"_ Looking out the window, Hermione fought the compulsion that tore at her soul. She wanted to go to Severus, but couldn't move.

Another book flew off the shelf. Poppy mumbled a quick incantation and the book opened. She kept checking to make sure the stone did not claim any more of Severus' life.

Unable to move, Hermione took comfort in the knowledge that Madam Pomfrey was tending to her husband's needs.

_"He is no longer your husband,"_ the voice hissed._"Come to me, Hermione. I need you…your touch."_

Albus Dumbledore swept into the ward, his normally serene blue eyes cold and hard. Hermione watched as the headmaster approached the bed. "Have you found the cause, Poppy?"

"No, no, no," the matron conversed with the diagnostic book of Potions. "Find another potion. It can't be that one. The ingredients are too rare. Medusa's blood no longer exists."

"What is it, Poppy?" Albus asked, his voice wary, yet calm.

She watched the interplay between school nurse and headmaster, her interest in Severus' health waning.

"I've looked through both diagnostic books," answered Madam Pomfrey. "According to this, Severus is under the effects of the Medusa's Kiss. But he would have had to ingest it. The ingredients just don't exist. This potion is nothing more than myth and legend."

Professor Dumbledore summoned the book and read the passage. Turning toward Hermione, his eyes narrowed. "Hermione?"

She tried to answer him, but she couldn't. There was no air in her lungs. It was though someone were kissing her, taking her breath away. She was suffocating. She could feel the desperation of the entity that held her hostage. If it couldn't have her, no one else would.

Seeing her struggle to answer him, Albus unsheathed his wand and moved around the ward, casting protective charms and defenses.

Air rushed into her lungs as the beast's hold on her was broken. Collapsing on the floor, Hermione coughed and sputtered, her throat raw from the attempt on her life.

--

Having felt the weight of the castle's protective wards buckling under the pressure of powerful hatred, Albus had done his best to fortify them. He should have guessed Lockhart was behind this. The mad wizard was undoubtedly far away, using one of the crudest, oldest magics known to wizarding kind. Gilderoy's hatred of love had afforded him great powers.

Dumbledore knelt next to Hermione, offering support as she gasped for air.

"Tell me, Hermione," Dumbledore asked quietly. "Did you hear him? Do you know where Gilderoy is?"

Her voice was raspy when she replied, her wide, sad gaze lingering on her husband. "Severus –"

"I have reinforced the wards," he assured his former student. "Poppy acted quickly. As long as he sleeps in death, the curse shall not touch him."

Hermione's eyes widened and tears spilled onto her cheeks, silent testament of her anguish. "He's dead," she whispered the words.

Unable to lie to her, Albus gazed into her moist brown eyes. "Not yet. But if we do not find the effigy and remove the curse, he will be."

"Effigy?" Poppy was confused.

"Yes," Albus explained. "Gilderoy is paying a heavy toll indeed. He is using magic that demands an exacting price."

Hermione was pale. He could feel her fear and guilt as he traversed the depths of her panicked thoughts. Walking to the other side of the bed, she knelt next to her husband and touched his forehead much like a mother would a child. "I did this. He was calling to me, telling me that I am free. He wanted me to come to him."

"Albus?" Poppy waited patiently for an explanation.

"I believe he is using Vodun, or Voodoo as it is commonly known," Dumbledore hypothesized. "Since it is highly unlikely that Severus ingested the potion –"

"So he is under the influence of Medusa's Kiss?" the matron asked in hopeless alarm. "How could that be? Gorgons are extinct. One would need a drop of a Gorgon's blood."

"It would seem that he acquired just that, Poppy," he stated. "As I was saying, since he didn't ingest the potion, I can only assume that Severus was affected once he left the protective wards of Hogwarts. It would seem Gilderoy has an effigy of you as well, Hermione. Judging by what you were feeling earlier, he has cast a love spell on your effigy."

"Albus!" a voice thick with worry shouted outside the Hospital Wing.

He looked at Poppy expectantly, waiting for the matron to shush Minerva as she called for him.

"Albus!" the voice drew closer.

"Professor Dumbledore!" another voice called out.

--

Harry burst into the ward, his gaze searching frantically for Hermione. Professor McGonagall was behind him, panicked over the news he had brought with him. Hermione was kneeling next to a bed, her head resting on Snape's chest.

"They're dead, Professor Dumbledore," panted Harry as he tried to catch his breath. "They are all dead."

"Who?" Dumbledore asked, his voice serene. Harry had always envied that about Dumbledore – his ability to stay calm in the most trying times.

"All the Death Eaters in Azkaban," Harry replied. "They've turned to stone."

--

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

A/N – It goes without saying that I owe Kathy Rose and Larilee so much.

Chapter Seventeen –

Trapped in darkness, Severus struggled against the preternatural force that held him captive. It was disquieting, the tug and pull of what felt like water, the effort it took to breathe. He felt leaden, as though a weight had been tied to his left wrist. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not free himself. 

Memories bubbled to the surface – making love to Hermione, the need to protect her. That thought alone bordered on absurd. Gryffindors did not need protection from anything or anyone other than themselves.

He had hated to leave her… How long had it been? The murky depths of his prison did not mark time.

Another event played in his mind, one in direct contrast to Hermione's goodness and love. It was evil and full of hatred.

The flood of emotions stilled his attempts to escape. It was something he had learned as a spy – embrace the evil, but do not let it consume you. But that was the problem. The evil was not directed at him. It was aimed at Hermione. The Dark Magic that had ensnared him was meant to punish her. He could feel the seething anger of the beast.

Wincing in pain, Severus clutched his left forearm. A brief moment of clarity shimmered in the muddy depths of his hell.

He had been cursed, the pain of the magic burning the Dark Mark.

Evil recognized evil.

In the distance, he could hear her voice. It called to him like a siren luring her prey to its watery death. He was unable to resist her, the torment of not being able to go to her cut into his soul bit by agonizing bit. He felt her touch as she stroked his hand of flesh and the weight of her as she sat on her bed.

"Poppy is confident she will find the cure." Her words were calm and soothing, but he could hear the silent tears fall upon her cheeks – the sadness in her voice.

Even if he had to move heaven and hell, he vowed to find his way back to her. He could try to ignore the reality of his situation, but the irony couldn't be overlooked. As a Potions master, he had easily identified the archaic potion that now held him in its grasp, but the cure was out of his reach.

Medusa's Kiss was as old as time itself. Legend had it that once Perseus had slain Medusa, the Fates had gathered the remnants of the Gorgon's body. One drop of her blood could turn a man to stone. Only Aphrodite's tears could free the frozen statues. Seeing as Aphrodite no longer existed, obtaining one of her tears would be impossible.

"William and Allison send their best," Hermione murmured, "even though you did take all those points away from Ravenclaw."

Feeling the warmth of her lips press against his, Severus groaned. He would sell his soul to be able to kiss her back.

"I need you…" Hermione's cinnamon breath caressed his cheek. "Promise me you won't be cross when I get back. Promise me you'll hold on."

His wife sounded desperate, almost repentant. What was she up to?

"I'm going alone," she whispered. "I can't let anyone else get hurt."

An uneasy feeling lurched in the pit of his leaden stomach.

"I'll find him. It shouldn't be too difficult," Hermione continued with a sarcastic chuckle. "_He_ has one of me too, my love. I can feel the pull of his magic. The doll…his enchantment…will not work. I am bound to you. Nothing can come between us, not even death."

He wanted to call out to her, to make her see reason, but he couldn't speak. Liquid shadows ravaged the tenuous connection on reality and he was whisked away against his will.

Time, he was unable to measure, passed. Another conversation whispered around him.

"I need you to follow her," Albus' stern voice instructed someone. "Use any means necessary. We need Gilderoy captured alive if we are to unravel what has been done."

Yes, yes, railed Severus silently. Find that bastard and keep him alive long enough for me to kill him!

"Professor," a familiar voice replied. "What if the enchantment takes hold of Hermione?"

Take hold of Hermione? As long as she stayed within the protective wards of Hogwarts, no enchantments could harm her.

"That is why you are to follow her," the headmaster whispered conspiratorially. "You can't let her know that she is being followed, though."

What! Severus seethed. Once he found his way back to Hermione, he was going to find some way to punish her. Not only that, he was going to hex Dumbledore for allowing her to leave. How dare Albus use Hermione as bait!

His rage fermented as the conversation drifted away.

--

Standing in front of the enchanted mirror, Hermione pulled her outer cloak into place. The castle was quiet, only the wisps of ghosts and restlessness of the portraits made any sounds. She would use the cover of darkness to escape.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and prayed.

"I forbid you to go," a masculine voice demanded sternly.

Hermione's eyes snapped open. Severus' reflection scowled at her and a moment of hope sprang to life. She turned around and found nothing.

"I forbid you to go," the reflection repeated the command.

Her gaze snapped back to the mirror. "Oh, it's you," Hermione stated, her inflection dejected and flat.

"I thought you would be happy to see your husband," the mirror murmured with an intensity that made her shiver.

"You are not my husband," she snapped.

"Quite right you are." He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes roamed up and down her figure in intimate appraisal. "Even though your husband is not next to you, I sense his frustration and rage."

Her reflection appeared in the mirror and wrapped its arms lovingly around Severus' waist. "I feel him too, but you are doing the right thing."

"Thank you," replied Hermione, taking some small comfort in their words.

"Do not encourage her reckless behavior, my love."

Hermione's mirror image moved Severus' hair from the nape of his neck and suckled his pulse point.

His dark eyes clouded with desire, but remained fixed on Hermione. "I forbid you to go," he hissed as the hand of the seductress in the mirror slid beneath his waistband. He grabbed her hand and tried to still her movements.

Did they have no sense of modesty? Hermione averted her gaze and started toward the door.

"Stop!" shouted Severus.

She turned, ready for the argument that the blasted mirror seemed so keen on having. "Nothing you can say will change my mind."

Her husband's reflection closed his eyes as her doppelganger seduced him. Her hands traveled the length of his naked chest.

"You should go now," her reflection whispered. "Your task may seem daunting, but do not give up. Time is of the essence. He is slipping farther away."

"What do you mean?" She could feel the tears choke her throat.

"Medusa's embrace will offer him solace soon," her reflection whispered softly. "You must hurry."

Hermione had no time for tears or regret and did not look back. She pulled her cloak tighter and walked through the door.

--

Gliding over the grounds, Hermione felt the urge to keep going. The push and pull was terrifying. She did not want to leave Severus, but knew she must. The compulsion pulling at her was growing stronger. It would not consume her. She wouldn't let it.

Something wasn't right. Nothing was right. Nothing had been right with her life in quite some time. Of that, she was sure. She hurried through the Forbidden Forest, leaves and twigs snapping in her path.

The farther she walked, the more she felt the emptiness grow stronger. It was as though she were leaving a part of herself behind. Clutching her hand to her chest, Hermione slumped against a tree and tried to catch her breath. 

She had to go on. She had to put an end to this madness. She clutched the last vestiges of hope within her heart. She would find the effigy and a cure for Severus. There had to be another way to free him.

She was close. She could feel the magical barrier. Blindly, Hermione rushed into the night.

Once past Hogwarts' grounds, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Come to me!" a loud, angry voice boomed in her mind. "Grab the Portkey and we shall be together soon!"

Looking down at her feet, Hermione saw a large, out-of-place conch shell.

A twig snapped nearby, startling her from her reverie. Was she being followed? She peered over her shoulder. No one was there.

The compulsion grew more desperate, forcing her to her knees. She grabbed the shell and felt an odd tug as though someone else were holding it too. Before she could analyze that, the Portkey carried her away from the edge of the forest.

Wind whipped around her and lights flashed before her. Soon she would arrive. Soon she would face Gilderoy. As with Apparition, traveling by Portkey was disorienting and tended to knock the breath out of you. Closing her eyes as the lights and colors swirled around her, Hermione prepared herself.

With a harsh thud, she landed on a rocky shore, the sound of the tide deafening her. Pulling her wand from her sleeve, Hermione peered over her shoulder. The full moon was bright against the rolling tide. She thought she heard someone curse, but there was too much wind. Rocks were sliding around her, whether disturbed by her arrival or the wind, she did not know.

In the distance, she could see a flickering light. It wasn't starlight or moonlight. It was firelight. It called to her, Gilderoy's voice part of the dancing embers. The lure of the enchantment beckoned to her and she followed the call willingly.

As she drew closer, pain sliced through her soul. Her heart felt leaden, as though it had turned to stone. It was weighted down with the burdens she carried.

_"You're free,"_ Lockhart chanted in her mind. _"Come to me. Be with me."_

Hermione climbed toward the cave. She should be afraid, but she wasn't. She was too busy dodging falling rocks to give in to fear.

A lone figure was stooped over the fire. Clutching her wand tightly, she advanced. Her eyes never left Lockhart. The roar of the waves crashing against the shore masked the sound of her approach. If she could just get a little closer, she could free Severus.

Shadows danced in the cave, one of them acting unnaturally as it drew closer to Lockhart.

Gods no! If anything happened to the bloody arse, she'd never find the effigy. The shadow inched closer, spurring her to run faster.

The shadow shimmered and turned into something solid. There was a flash of brilliant white light, which momentarily blinded her. But she kept going. Hermione stumbled on the rocks, tears rolling down her cheeks, her emotions raw from the trauma of the last few days. She was so close.

As she neared the entrance of the cave, she could hear her tormentor's voice.

"Where is she!" Lockhart demanded as he kicked someone.

Hermione got closer, her breath barely able to move through her body. She couldn't tell who was lying on the ground. There wasn't much light.

A soft rasping groan was Gilderoy's only answer.

"Tell me where she is, Potter!" the incensed madman shouted.

Stamping down the fear, Hermione stepped into the light. "I'm here, my love. I've come to you."

She didn't recognize the man who faced her. His robes were tattered, his blonde hair ashen and dirty. Various smudges marked his face. As she approached him, she could smell the putrid acidic smell of body odor. Somehow, Hermione managed not to gag.

Lockhart said nothing. His eyes were wide with shock. It was almost as though he didn't believe she was real. 

Harry groaned and her gaze flitted to him. She would need to get Lockhart away from Harry.

As if sensing her thoughts, Gilderoy moved between her and Harry, his wand raised defensively. 

"We should leave," she suggested, motioning for him to take her hand. "Before any others show up." She could see the distrust in his eyes. He thought she had brought Harry with her. 

"Give me your wand, Hermione," he commanded softly as he held his hand out.

She reached for her wand slowly and offered it to him. _Dear Merlin, please don't let him hurt anyone else. _

Like a wild animal taking food from a stranger, Lockhart approached her and snatched her wand away. "She said I should leave you alone. Said you were a harlot, trifling with my feelings. She didn't want me to use Voodoo. Said I would have to pay the price."

"Who?" she whispered shakily.

A vicious look crossed his menacing features. "That old hen, Strout." 

Closing her eyes, Hermione stayed the rolling turmoil in her stomach. He had killed Miriam Strout. She had to remain calm. Even though she wanted to hex the man before her into oblivion, she couldn't let on that she did.

He was behind her now, having circled her several times to ascertain whether she had any other surprises in store for him.

Hermione stared straight ahead, not wanting to agitate the madman. In the distance, she saw Harry move. Fear slithered up her spine as Lockhart fingered her hair, moving it off her shoulder. Her stomach lurched. His body odor and touch sickened her.

"I love you," he breathed against her neck.

Bile rose in her throat. "I-I l-love you too," whispered Hermione as she tried to buy Harry some time.

His eyes narrowing skeptically, Gilderoy moved in front of her.

She didn't blink. If she did, he would know the truth. Welcoming the compulsion to love him, Hermione managed a weak smile.

Accepting her invitation, Lockhart moved to kiss her.

As the smell of rancid breath fell upon her lips, she flinched.

Her mistake sealed her fate. Clutching her upper arms, he shook her and threw her to the ground.

"Liar!" he bellowed, pointing his wand at her.

As she braced for whatever curse he was going to hurl at her, Hermione gasped as she watched him stiffen and fall backwards. She turned toward her savior – a rumpled-looking Dumbledore.

His normally sparkling blue eyes were deadly serious as he inspected the Body-Binding Curse he had captured Lockhart with. "Are you all right?" he asked as he held out his hand to her.

Without answering him, Hermione crawled toward Harry. Ascertaining that her friend would be fine, she jumped up and ran to Albus. The old wizard opened his arms and offered the traumatized witch comfort.

Flicking his wand toward Harry, Dumbledore stroked Hermione's wildly mussed hair.

Groaning, Harry sat up and rubbed his head. "What happened?"

"Gilderoy stunned you," replied Albus.

"Is Hermione all right?"

The headmaster nodded. "You did well Harry. That was quick thinking, sending the Portkey back to my office. Do you have the Veritaserum with you?"

"Yes," Harry answered as he approached the supine form of Gilderoy Lockhart. 

"Once I wake him, give him the Truth Serum," Albus instructed. "We haven't much time."

Holding her breath, she watched the headmaster bind Lockhart with magical rope before waking him. Harry grabbed the captive's blonde hair and forced the Veritaserum down the struggling wizard's throat.

Even though Gilderoy was restrained and at their mercy, Albus kept his wand trained on him. "Where is the effigy?"

He struggled against the ropes, spittle flying from his mouth as he laughed. "You'll never free him! She's mine!"

"Answer the question, Gilderoy." Dumbledore's voice was low and dangerous. 

The wizard bit his lip to keep from telling the truth, but the truth erupted anyway. "The ocean!"

"Where in the ocean?" Harry asked.

Lockhart cackled, his laugh high and shrill. "Days," he wheezed. "Deep in the ocean. He'll never hurt her again!"

Losing patience, Dumbledore ran his hand over his wary face. "Tell us what you've done, Gilderoy. Where is the effigy? How did it get there? Where did you get a drop of Medusa's blood? Is that what you used?"

Gilderoy was turning purple with the strain of keeping his secrets. "Knockturn Alley! The caplata cast the spells on the dolls. He didn't want to, but I made him. I provided Medusa's blood."

"Where is he?" Hermione whispered the question, already knowing that another person was dead because of her.

"He suffered the same fate as Snape's doll!" he rasped as tears streamed down his cheeks. "If I had killed the bastard like I had wanted to, you would have followed him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, collecting his and Hermione's wands.

Lockhart succumbed to hysterical laughter. "I-I brewed…the st-strongest love potion, and y-you still would not come to me. You bound yourself to him willingly!" he spat. "How could you?"

Grasping her wand, Hermione pointed it between her stalker's eyes. "Where is the doll?" she murmured each syllable slowly.

"In the sea," he answered again. "We flew for days. I didn't want anyone to undo what I have done. If I can't have you, no one will."

Pressing her wand against his pallid cheek, Hermione growled. "Where is it!"

"I threw both dolls into the ocean," he hissed. "Once the poison consumes him, he will turn to stone."

"Where is Hermione's effigy, Gilderoy?" The headmaster looked pale, as though he had made a sickening discovery. 

Sobbing, Lockhart struggled against the magical restraints. "I tied it to his."

"In death and life, always bound, always one," Albus murmured shakily, looking round the cave as though an answer would magically appear in front of him.

"What is it?" Harry looked puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you see?" Albus shuddered. "Since Hermione is bound to Severus, she shall suffer the same fate. The curse will seep through their bond. It will consume her just as it is attempting to consume Severus."

--

A/N – A caplata is a Voodoo priest who practices dark magic. If it's any consolation, Larilee is not sure she likes me anymore for this evil cliffie. But I have good news! The next chapter is the last chapter!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen –

Hermione paid no mind to her reflection as it wept silently in the mirror. She had no tears left. She hadn't wept for herself; she had wept for the others, Miriam Strout, the caplata, and Severus. Miriam and the faceless Voodoo sorcerer were dead because of her, all dead for reasons she had yet to fully comprehend.

It had been two days since she had stood at the shore, ignoring the cold wind and rain as she had tried in vain to summon the effigies from the depths of the ocean. The tide had carried them away. Although they had not been destroyed, the cursed figures had been truly lost. In the end, it had not matter.

There would be no way to counteract the poison that had tainted Severus' likeness – and her soul. She had been so consumed with finding Lockhart she had not considered herself to be in any danger. Even though Dumbledore declared it to be impossible, Hermione knew it had to be true.

As soon as the stone consumed her husband, the curse would take her as well. For someone who had professed to love her, Lockhart sure had a strange way of showing it.

The Mirror of Truth had reflected their reality and the hopelessness of the situation. Even if they had been able to find the dolls, they didn't have the cure. The curse would take its course, unstoppable even to magic.

A soft knock interrupted her reverie.

"Come in," she called out.

After the door opened slowly, Albus stood in the doorway, his somber gaze lingering on Hermione's weeping reflection.

She stared straight ahead, hardly acknowledging his presence.

"Minerva and I have reinforced the wards," he stated. "That should provide you and Severus enough time…"

Hermione did not reply.

"Are you certain, Hermione?" the headmaster asked, his inflection tinged with desperation. "There must be another way. Perhaps, more time. Another day?"

Gazing into the mirror, a sense of bereavement washed over her. "Severus is gone, Professor Dumbledore. Even his reflection is gone."

Hermione's reflection wiped its tears away.

Gathering his robes, Albus approached the mirror. His reflection appeared next to Hermione's and offered her mirror image comfort.

"Did you see him?" Dumbledore asked, watching his reflection with keen interest. 

"Who?" answered Hermione.

"Have you seen Severus' reflection in the mirror since he became incapacitated?" His blue eyes lingered on the enchanted mirror.

"Yes, why?" 

The old wizard touched the Mirror of Truth, his reflection matching his movements. "Perhaps it is time to see what Severus thinks."

--

Severus had surrendered to the ebb and flow of magical forces long ago. The pain had destroyed his implacable resolve. His struggle to save Hermione had failed. Although the curse had not yet consumed his flesh, his sanity was another question.

Hermione… Just the thought of her soothed and infuriated him. She was so stubborn and headstrong. Lockhart was out there, stalking her, determined to bend her to his will. Pain sliced though him, stealing his soul and memories.

In the distance, he could see a shimmering pool of calm silvery threads. It called to him, pulled him closer. He should resist it, but he was too tired.

--

Hermione watched as Dumbledore placed the Mirror of Truth at the foot of Severus' bed and took his place on the other side of the bed. She touched the hard surface of her husband's stone hand. Was it her imagination, or was it warm?

The enchanted mirror wove its magic instantaneously, and she watched as her husband's pale reflection stirred and struggled to open its eyes. The mirror, the object that had ratted her out only days before, soothed her shattered heart. Black eyes, dark with worry and rage, snapped open and searched frantically for any familiar sight. 

Once the reflection's gaze encountered her image, it seemed to know. It knew everything that had transpired over the last several hours. It was as though Severus realized the hopelessness of their predicament.

"Are you all right?" Severus' mirror image asked her counterpart as he fisted his hand in its wild hair. 

"Yes," her reflection replied softly.

Licking her lips, Hermione watched the scene in the mirror unfold. Severus' reflection pulled hers down for a kiss, her reflection's hair shielding the passionate display between lovers.

--

The moment his soul merged with the Mirror of Truth, Severus recognized the familiar, if not irritating, enchanting manifestation. She was there, waiting for him. Hermione's soul touched his. Another soul was there, as well. As her form shimmered into existence before him, he learned of his wife's daring, Lockhart's mechanizations and subsequent demise, and Potter's and Dumbledore's rescue.

But all of it had been in vain. Albus had found that their bond was more a curse than a blessing. Hermione would suffer the same fate as he. 

Severus silently berated himself. He should have actively searched for Lockhart. Instead, he had waited, convinced of the purity and goodness of his love for Hermione. Nothing could destroy it. No one could harm them.

His arrogance and complacency had cost Hermione her life.

"Stop it," she reprimanded, her voice barely a whisper.

"Now is hardly the time for self recrimination," Dumbledore murmured sympathetically.

Severus nodded, wincing in pain as he moved.

"Is there anything we can do, Severus?" the headmaster asked, grasping at straws and quizzing the Potions master for a possible antidote.

Hermione sniffled next to him, her head bowed in defeat.

"Even if I knew where to find Aphrodite's tears," replied Severus as he labored to breathe, "we would have to treat the curse at its source. Without the dolls, I'm afraid there is nothing we can do."

"I am afraid we were unable to recover the effigies," Albus stated solemnly.

"I know." There was only one thing left to do.

"No." Hermione gave a strangled gasp.

His old mentor stepped back, a pallor suffusing his usually rosy cheeks 

"You must save Hermione, Albus." Desperation slipped into his tone and Severus cleared his throat before making his request. "Kill me before the curse runs its course. End my suffering and save Hermione."

--

All of the training Hermione had received could never have prepared her for something like this. Severus' request had sparked a bitter argument. He had wanted to sacrifice his life to save hers. Not only was that unacceptable, Dumbledore had rationalized that it would not prevent the curse from running its course.

She had seen the pain in her husband's eyes. Every time Hermione closed her eyes, she could see it. She would not let him linger much longer. Once she relieved Poppy, she would ward the doors to the Hospital Wing and wake Severus.

By morning, they would both be gone.

Pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders, Hermione stared at the full moon through the glass ceiling of the greenhouse, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She couldn't remember the last time she had gotten a good night's sleep. Ever since she'd woken up at St. Mungo's, everything had seemed like a dream.

Something tapped on the glass panes of the greenhouse, startling Hermione. Even though Lockhart had been Obliviated and locked away in Azkaban, the wounds he had inflicted were raw and tender. She unsheathed her wand, able to hear the beating of her frantic heart.

The distorted shadow of an odd-shaped bird flitted across the glass roof. Professor Sprout would have a fit if she knew she had birds nesting here. Just as Hermione started to relax as the tittering creature withdrew, she heard a loud smash.

Glass fell from above, shards of it landing in her wildly messy hair. Falling to her knees, she shielded herself as something wet hit her. It fluttered around her as though it was possessed, almost as though it was drawn to her. As if sensing the futility of its actions, the thing ceased its movements and flopped onto the ground in front of Hermione.

Upon closer inspection, she could see that it wasn't an animal at all. It was two little bundles of straw with a long piece of twine connecting them. She picked up one of the lumps, the other dangling precariously beneath it. Realization was slow in dawning as she inspected the crude little doll.

"It can't be," she whispered softly as she lifted one of the dolls to her face and inhaled. It was saturated with salt water. How was this possible? Silent tears fell onto the doll as she cradled it against her chest.

_"In the sea,"_ Lockhart had wheezed, telling her, Harry, and Dumbledore what he had done with the effigies. _"We flew for days. I didn't want anyone to undo what I have done. If I can't have you, no one will."_

Irony was a bitter pill to swallow. Staring at the crude figures, Hermione wept freely. She and Harry had scoured Borgin and Burkes for the source of Medusa's Blood in the hopes of finding the cure.

Aphrodite had entered into legend long ago. 

Sniffling and standing, Hermione started removing the glass from her hair. She wrapped the dolls together and tucked them up her sleeve. It was time to go see Severus.

--

Still caught in the enchantment of the Mirror, Severus simmered. The argument over his "suggestion" had been explosive. Hermione had stormed off several hours ago. Albus wasn't speaking to him, much less looking at him. (Good riddance!) And Poppy had had enough manners to keep her opinion to herself.

There was no longer any pain for it had been replaced by his wife's grief. Her grief was so strong that it overshadowed his. Out of habit, Severus glanced at his left arm. The sharp pain was just a dull ache now. Its color was no longer marble-white. His arm actually had a pink hue to it. His fingers wiggled at him, seemingly taunting him with his continuing journey into insanity.

It was a strange sensation. A dull ache spread through his hand and arm like a fire of a thousand pinpricks. Shaking his hand, Severus wondered if he was dreaming.

Of course he was dreaming! He was in the bloody Mirror of Truth. It was surreal, staring at himself as he lay in bed, just moments from death. Dumbledore was snoring lightly, sitting in a chair next to his bed. Somehow he had managed not to throttle the old wizard.

"I feel it too." The old wizard's reflection yawned and stretched, distracting Severus from his study of the real world.

"Feel what?" snapped Snape, glaring at Dumbledore.

The reflection of the headmaster's soul rubbed its jaw warily. "She is angry with you."

"It isn't as though I have much choice in the matter, Albus," snapped Severus, shaking his left hand as he attempted to wake the bothersome limb.

His blue eyes widened in surprise and he grabbed Severus' arm. "You're cured!" he whispered in amazement.

"No. I'm not," Severus replied, snatching his arm away and motioning toward his body. "My condition remains unchanged."

The doppelganger shook its head. "This mirror reflects only the truth. You can not alter reality." 

Staring at his body, Severus listened to the explanation and prayed for a miracle.

Dumbledore woke with a start and glanced at the mirror. Smacking his chops, the ancient wizard shifted in his chair and tried to go back to sleep.

"The truth is here, Albus," Severus murmured shakily.

Albus watched Severus move his arm and hand, his features hopeful, yet schooled. 

"Release me," Severus instructed. "Remove Poppy's charm. If I am…cured, then we've nothing to worry about. If the curse advances, you must kill me. You must Obliviate Hermione. You need to -- "

"No!" Hermione's shrill protest echoed throughout the Hospital Ward.

--

Making her way to the bedside, Hermione pulled the effigies from her robe and held them as though they were made of delicate porcelain. "I found them…actually…they found me. I was in the greenhouse."

She faced Severus' reflection with determination. "I won't let you do this. I won't let you sacrifice yourself! And just who in the hell do you think you are? Obliviate me?" She huffed, then glared at Dumbledore as though he was part of a greater conspiracy.

Her angry gazed shifted back to the mirror. She felt as though she was having some odd three-way conversation – the type of conversation that should be hushed and solemn. But she'd had enough of this. She wasn't going to let her husband die. She wasn't going to let that Nancy-boy of a prat win.

"There has to be a way," she said, softening her tone, mindful of the pain Severus must be experiencing even though he was under a healing stasis charm. She turned to study Severus' pallor as he lay unmoving in the hospital bed. He wouldn't be able to see her tears, and that is what mattered most. "I'll find a way. I'll find the cure. There has to be –"

"Your tears," whispered Severus' image. 

Wiping the offending moisture from her face, Hermione faced the Mirror of Truth and gave a weak smile. "What?"

"You're right, Severus." Dumbledore reached across the bed and touched the sleeping man's left arm. "Your arm is warm. It should be cold, like Medusa's Kiss."

Hermione dropped the dolls and clutched the headmaster's wrist, afraid he would wake her husband and cause the curse to claim him. "Don't. Touch. Him. He isn't himself. He doesn't know what he's saying."

Gently, Albus gathered the straw dolls and examined them and the knotted twine that attached them. She watched in horror as he snapped the rope and pulled the effigies apart. "Hermione –"

"No!" she wailed, pushing Dumbledore away and flinging herself over Severus' body as though she could stop the transpiring events. 

Before anything could be done, before anything else could be said, Dumbledore muttered an incantation and her husband drew a shuddering breath.

She wept openly, her mind screaming in protest while she gave a strangled cry. "How could you?"

--

"Hermione…" Severus wheezed, feeling the pinpricks of pain shooting up and down his arm. With his good arm, he embraced her. How could he explain? Even now, he was uncertain how this miracle had come about.

In answer to his silent question, Albus answered, "It was her tears, Severus. Tears of love. If you ever doubt that she loves you, remember this day."

"Hermione?" He spoke her name softly, mindful of his wife's weight on top of him. He could touch her, feel her, and smell her. Ignoring her muffled protest, Severus shifted beneath her. Was the nightmare really over?

"It's Aphrodite's Tears!" Dumbledore theorized. "Hermione's tears must have fallen onto the doll."

Shakily, Hermione pulled away. Her eyes were wide and confused, her cheeks streaked with the evidence of her fear and sorrow.

"It's all right, Hermione," Severus tried to explain, not sure what to say as he was unsure as to how things had transpired. His lips sought hers, nature lending its influence to his desire for his wife. "The curse is lifted."

--

Several months later –

The essay he was grading was bloody awful – even for a seventh-year, and he had twelve more essays to go. At this rate, Hermione would be asleep before he got to the dungeons. Eight months had done nothing to ease the passion Severus felt for his wife. Thankfully, it had been long enough for Hermione's nightmares to end.

She still had a difficult time grasping the fact that her tears had released him from the curse. Severus grinned in remembrance. He had never met anyone more analytical than himself. Hermione had suffered greatly due to Gilderoy's obsession.

She blamed herself for so much. No matter how often he, her parents, or their friends told her it wasn't her fault, she still found fault with her actions. Once the curse had been broken, it released all the Death Eaters and claimed Gilderoy's life. Medusa's Kiss had consumed him quickly, and once done, he had shattered into dust.

His actions were visited upon him tenfold.

Lockhart's death had done little to assuage Hermione's guilt. Others had died -- others before Lockhart had invoked the Dark Magic.

The media, of course, had a field day with the entire epic once they got their grubby paws on snippets of gross exaggerations. The only satisfaction he derived from the articles was that Rita Skeeter had not written them for she had mysteriously disappeared.

Rumor had it that she was an unregistered Animagus and had been squashed as a very colorful little bug. For some odd reason, Hermione did not find much amusement in that tidbit of information.

"You!" a shrill voiced shouted from across the classroom. "You cad! No wonder I refused your proposal. It was anything but charming. Old maid! How could you?"

Pinching the bridge of his overly large nose, Severus set his quill down. He had wondered when she would get to that memory. Albus had been kind enough to lend them his Pensieve, and Hermione had set about reclaiming the memories that had been taken from her.

In all fairness, he had put only the truth in the bowl of memories. He could have lied. He could have romanticized the marriage proposal and everything that had followed, but why start now?

"At least I had the common sense to slam the door in your face," she huffed, putting a hand on her hip and tapping her foot.

Severus smirked. His wife was not a very good actress. Their rocky beginning was fodder for great amusement. Luckily, Hermione had a sense of humor.

"And yet you are still here." He waved his hand around the dungeon classroom.

"By default!" she bantered, referring to their eternal bond. 

Standing, Severus walked around his desk and made his way through the student desks. In true Gryffindor fashion, Hermione did not move. She stood her ground, even knowing full well what he would do next.

His smirk turned into a sneer. "And yet you are still here," he repeated, clutching her upper arms and pulling her voluptuous softness against his lanky frame. A blush stole into her cheeks as he teased her with a kiss.

Her response always amazed him. Her lips opened under his gentle persuasion. Touching his tongue to hers, Severus coaxed her to take the lead. He released his hold on her arms and grabbed one of her hands, guiding it to the cloth of his robe and trousers.

She cupped him, rubbing his needy sex through the material and putting an end to any gentleness or playfulness he had been feeling toward her. "I need you," he growled, and pulled her toward his desk.

"Of course you do," she replied and thrust her hips against him suggestively.

Even through the layers of clothing, he could feel the promised heat of her body. "Minx," he hissed accusingly.

Hermione laughed. "And yet you are still here."

He growled and lifted her onto his desk, charming their clothes away and burying himself inside her. Her channel was slick and tight, easing the union and urging a furious tempo. Tonguing a path from the tip of one breast to the other, Severus closed his eyes.

Everything seemed so perfect – this one moment in time marred by the strange feeling that he had forgotten something important. The feeling of her depths constricting around him pushed any unpleasantness out of his mind and he lost himself within the confines of her welcome heat.

With a sated smile upon her lips, Hermione sat up. "I certainly hope your Transfiguration skills are up to par, seeing as you Vanished our clothing."

An evil grin spread across his face. "Can you imagine the headlines if we were to run naked through the halls?"

Hermione punched his shoulder playfully. "They certainly wouldn't get any decent pictures. Your pale arse would undoubtedly blind someone and – Ouch!" she yelped as he pinched her.

"That is enough of your sass, wife," scolded Severus softly as he settled next to her in contentment.

--

A few months later, Severus was reminded of what he had forgotten that evening with Hermione. As he poured through the Daily Prophet, a headline in the gossip column caught his attention.

_Hermione Snape, Expecting? _

Calmly folding the newspaper, Severus stared at Hermione as she nibbled a piece of toast. What on earth had possessed her to go to a Muggle drugstore and purchase a home pregnancy test?

Setting her toast on a plate, Hermione grabbed her napkin and sneezed.

Severus hid his grin with his napkin and observed his wife. She looked much like the day he proposed, wild hair and red nose. Back then she couldn't afford the potion that would cure her cold. Now, her reticence over taking the Pepperup Potion only confirmed the rumor in the paper. He was going to be a father.

The thought both terrified and elated him. Actually, it terrified him more than it elated him. He certainly couldn't blame Hermione. After all, she couldn't remember the last time she had taken a Contraceptive Potion.

Folding the paper in half, Severus set in on the table and turned in his chair.  
"Is there something you would like to tell me, Hermione?"

--

FIN

A/N – Thanks for reading and reviewing everybody. This is my last pre-written SS/HG story. I am currently working on two others. I don't post them unless they are finished. I do have a one-shot story that is complete… It has mature content that is not suitable for children. Anyone of age who wishes to read it, just PM or email me and I will send you the link.


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